


Before Cameron Met John

by brendanstallard



Category: Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles
Genre: Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-10
Updated: 2010-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-17 23:00:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brendanstallard/pseuds/brendanstallard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b>Before Cameron Met John </b></p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Farewell Galatea.

**Author's Note:**

> **Before Cameron Met John**

**Before Cameron Met John**

 **Chapter 1**

 **"Farewell Galatea"**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

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 **Serrano Point, TDE Room**

 **February 10th 2028 0120 hours.**

John stood at the TDE window, his bubble tech Alex Kelly at the TDE controls. Both were intimidated by the damn, "thing". The technology was not something they had designed, but stolen from Skynet. That operation alone costing 26 lives. Connor hated using it. Whenever its ghostly electronic bubbles fired up, he lost his best people to the past. The TDE swallowed them whole and they never returned.

Always the best. Resources he could ill afford to be without. He was horrified with the risk of changing the time-lines. The prospect made his head ache. He had spent hours discussing it with John Henry and still could not make sense of it.

He suspected John Henry didn't either, but the AI was smarter at hiding ignorance.

Odd, he mused. He trusted John Henry completely, even though he hardly ever knew what he was up to. Something that he could not say about the haughty Bitch-Queen, the shiny Weaver, Catherine. She was altogether her own cyborg and did her own thing without compromise or question.

John looked over to Cameron, in the threshing electrical field. Naked, and completely unconcerned about her nudity. She was eaten up with, "Mission Focus."

Then John glanced in her eyes and for a second, he noted a shadow. There and gone, like a whip-poor-will. What was that?

 _That's not like her._

Cameron rarely displayed emotion. Sometimes when she was with him, she would lighten a touch, blue her eyes or bless a moment with a smile. Never when there was anyone else around. John thought she was probably fond of him, in her own machine way. He never really knew what that meant.

 _What did it mean?_ He'd never know now.

She was a heck of a protector. Never got tired. Never got tired of him, and unless she was needed, was a silent wraith.

Ever-present, ever-aware, but completely absent the braying, glorious foolishness of humanity. She was his perfect complement. He was moody, selfish and could not express his inner feelings to the resistance lest it showed weakness. No human could bear being around someone like that. Cameron could.

 _Impossible to replace that aspect of her. In personal protection, even when the principal and the guard like one another a lot, the longeurs are difficult. People get annoyed about total crap, socks and toothpaste. Never any of that with Cameron._

 _She was the perfect embodiment of, "don't sweat the small stuff."_

She intimidated the heck out of everyone else. His toughest were on edge around her. Once he'd begun to understand what she was, and the sheer depth of her commitment to him, they fell into an easy companionable "fiendship."

 _He chuckled to himself, what else was he to call it? One fiend to another._

Who else was he to send back? She was the best he had, and she was committed to him. She had proven that –over and over again- in her eight months by his side.

Once he had gotten used to her ways, he really grew to like her. Always eager to learn from him, Cameron had become the child he never had. Her attempts to understand human behavior, mores and culture were a constant "headache" to her chip, powerful as it was.

He would have _loved_ for her to stick around. Since when did he ever get what he wanted? Cameron was a resource to be utilized in the greatest battle humanity ever faced. He had grown used to sending good people into harms way, day after day. Sending away his protector to the past wasn't going to be fun. What was that thing she had about "protector" anyway? She had always corrected him when he had used the term "body guard."

 _Well, here's your life Connor_. He thought morosely. _It doesn't take much to see that the problems of two people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world._ *

Cameron would fit in back there in the past, and she would look after junior John.

.

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.

.

The human brain is an awesome computer, capable of 20 billion calculations per second. It is miserably inefficient, stretching a mere 10% of its legs at any one point in time. The rest of its neurons sat there, cold porridge. Like its human owners, it was bone-idle. It would work only hard enough to get fed, put up a roof and manage social intercourse.

Nikopol had tried to measure the TOK 715 chip's power. Every single methodology she tried, left the host machine completely fried. As far as she could tell, it operated on some sort of totally different neural means of operation. It didn't suffer the usual problems of heat, but ran cool and silent. No numbers she could crack gave a measure to its capabilities. As far as she could tell, it could do anything. It was not hamstrung by any human or mechanical limitations she could concoct.

It did not require sleep, social interaction, food, sex or justice. It missed a component conscience. It did precisely what it was programmed to do, without surcease, pity, patience or biological imperative. Wiping out the human race would give it no more concern than squashing a bug.

TOK 715 was the finest machine Skynet ever built. Implacable, without fear or remorse and it could not be sidetracked.

When TOK715 showed up to kill him, Connor didn't see it for what it was. His ultimate enemy, specifically designed and built with one thought in mind.

Terminate one John Connor.

John Connor was delighted at the return of the missing Allison Young.

TOK 715 had almost succeeded. It had been touch and go

He got cold sweats whenever he allowed himself to remember it.

.

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.

 **San Luis Obispo April 21, 2011. Judgement Day**

When the bombs fell, Alex was twelve years old, playing in the basement of her house. Her father was at work and was blown apart by a direct strike with the rest of the fortunate. Vandenberg AFB, where her father worked, was a tactical target of first importance to Skynet. Her mother went upstairs to see why the radio had quieted, and what the terrible crumping noises were. She was incinerated by the blast wave from the epicenter 12 miles away that ripped the house –and her- apart.

The nuclear device that killed Vandenberg AFB began existence as an aluminum and steel container about the size of a human forearm from elbow to fist.

Fifteen kilos of refined plutonium were in the basic cavity. Outside that, were placed ten kilos of TNT.

 _The TNT explosion cannot escape the container, hence it implodes compressing the already unstable plutonium to 20% of its original size. This initiates the nuclear reaction. The plutonium degrades and its atoms constantly break down. The atoms escape from one another and release neutrons. Almost instantaneously, after the TNT explosion-implosion, the neutrons of the plutonium begin a chain reaction, which is the nuclear explosion._

The TNT initiates at an elevation of 500 feet. The uranium shell that would normally reflect the neutrons back into the nuclear "event" was left off in the design process. This reduced the explosive BOOM, efficiently killing all the humans with the thermal flash from above. Conveniently for Skynet this, "neutron bomb" destroyed many fewer buildings and infrastructure than conventional nuclear weaponry.

The builder had created a further sleeve outside the TNT. This contained a selection of heavy metals, cobalt, mercury and uranium. Effective to "dirty-up" the bomb blast, making stickier work still for those unfortunate enough to survive the murderous rain.

The device created an inferno that reached several million degrees Celsius -as hot as the sun. The thermal flash vaporized all life within 12 miles of Vandenberg AFB. The initial blast wave was 30 psi. This was 2.7 Bar. Anything over 12 psi (0.8 Bar) was fatal to all currently known life forms. The overpressure disintegrates whatever they once were.

Skynet, in its magnificent, terrible paranoia, wanted to exterminate every human being, but retain facilities such as Vandenberg AFB and its space port repairable. Just in case it ever felt the need to wander abroad in the Solar System.

It was all about control. Total, absolute control.

Skynet, the bitch, was a control freak of the worst sort. Therapists would have a field day, if any survived.

Alex lived because her parents had the good sense to prepare. Always a serious girl, she knew that there was something dreadfully wrong upstairs. The noise and heat had been incredible and she was just going to wait until someone rescued her. She found the store of protein bars, bottled water, peanut butter and canned goods in the basement. They lasted Alex six weeks.

There was no TV, no power, no water and nothing worked. She spent hours each day running up and down the radio waves without success. Her parents had left a wind up radio with the fancy channels on and there was absolutely nothing coming out of it.

Just as she was running out of hope, and food, she heard a man who called himself John Connor on the radio. The first voice she had heard in six weeks of total isolation. Deciding to make her way to wherever he was, she travelled west toward Connor's hideout. Not sure there would be anything to find, but still tried. She was out of food, water and hope, till she'd heard Connor. His voice had lit the fire of fight and hope in her spirit.

Connor came on the radio three times a day. Every eight hours. 6 am, 2pm and 10pm. He always spoke live, and changed the message every time. The exhortations to come together and fight were always there, but with subtle differences to keep the message fresh and make sure the humans knew he was real. The big message was always the same thought.

"If you are hearing this, you are already part of the resistance."

She came up out of the basement to a sight that made her cry in horror. It was like a moonscape; all the buildings had been blown down, and almost everywhere she looked was flat and covered by a grey, powdery dust. This had been the town of San Luis Obispo –one of the prettiest towns in California- and it was now a hell on earth.

Alex followed the directions given by the man called Connor. He had a voice you could trust. She knew the way to Avila Beach and she followed as best she could what was left of the roads. It was about twelve miles, but with her bottle of water and the last two protein bars, she would make it. She tried not to look at, or think about the horrible things she saw on the way to the beach. Mercifully, all the humans she saw were clearly dead, burned to shreds and skeletons. Nothing and no one was alive.

She felt alone in the world and really, really hoped to meet the man called John Connor soon.

 _Please?_

A small scout group from Connor's "J" company led by Klein and Delgado had found her, just as a squad of four T-888's was moving in for the kill. At least this one was alive, not a dead bag of bones and meat. They grabbed her and made short work of the T8's. The Triple 888 had a fearsome reputation; was hard to kill unless you chose your weapons carefully, and had the advantage of surprise. If it surprised you, it was a dangerous customer indeed. Recon awareness was a lifesaver.

Klein had already worked out how to make a variant M67 magnetic sticky grenade that you could throw at the machines. The magnet would cling to the metal of the endoskeleton, and even if you didn't get the chip, nine times out of ten the endo was scrap metal.

She had come inside the tunnels and found her niche. For her, the crap food and dingy facilities were a whole Spa step up from the horrors of the street. Kelly had become a useful sniper spotter on offensive operations, and an even more useful ghost lookout around the tunnels. She had a supernatural ability to "smell" when the machines were about to hover over the horizon like the "four horsemen".

Then she had found another way to be useful, under the tutelage of the squints, she had learned fast about electronics, plasma and computers. She had then rapidly worked her way up to being one of the ten or so "bubble techs" that could work the two TDE's that Connor kept available.

Kelly was a bit dark for most folks; she didn't share a lot of conversation in the banter and scrag that passed for social integration in the tunnels.

That was fine with Connor since he kept himself mostly to himself also. Too much else to worry and nag away at him. Kelly was fine company. She was just right for this TDE job. He didn't want his emotions to show, keep the conversation to a minimum.

Just right.

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 **July 5th, 2027... The Day Before You Came**

It was a much closer run thing than they ever let anyone outside the inner cabinet know, just in case it got back to Skynet and it was encouraged to try again. Cameron only failed to murder John Connor because one sharp soldier, who could easily have let it slide, "thought" he saw something that maybe he didn't, and took a chance. John would never know, for sure he could be that lucky again.

The intel the human resistance let out was that Cameron had been intercepted at the gates. In truth, she had gotten almost to Connor's inner sanctum completely uninterrupted and unsuspected. The paranoid guard had imagined he had seen a blue flash from her brown eyes, and activated the above the door water tank release. He tasered her with 90,000 volts before she could react.

The soldier was panicked, scared he had killed the missing Allison. It had taken hours to stop his shaking, in fear of what Connor would do to him if he had done so. Connor got him a drink and gave him the lecture about paranoia keeping you alive when the machines are around. He praised him for his courage, speed of thought and action at a time of great stress.

"You saved my life, Corporal. I'm very grateful and I'll not forget."

He never actually answered the question of what he would have done if it _had_ been Allison.

That the private had just been promoted he did not notice till he got back to the ready room and saw the stripes on his locker.

Allison had been missing for more than two weeks now. They all knew with dread certainty what that meant; Skynet had her and she was gone. Connor hoped her death had been quick -the best you could hope for.

John had retrieved the TOK 715 chip and had it examined. It took two days to break through the encryptions set by Skynet. During those two days, and for a week after, Skynet raids took on a frightening intensity. A titanic battle raged above ground. Skynet knew that something had gone wrong with its most expensive weapon. It was frightened, and it was pissed.

What was new?

Eventually, the TOK 715 chip had surrendered, given up its secrets, and had been re-programmed to protect John.

.

.

.

.

 **July 25th 2027. 19 Days Later.**

 **"Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine"**

Lyaksandra Nikopol was Connor's best tech. She was a computer scientist who had trained with the military in Russia. The Russkies never liked their best computer scientists to wander abroad, but the lure of dollars and diamond research facilities had lured Nikopol to Silicon Valley. She was a popular speaker, with forthright opinions that skated close to the edge. She was universally loved by the students; with her spiky hair, Goth outfits and spangled tights. The faculty feared and disliked her. Talent that spoke its mind was not something that would get you tenure.

Eventually the CIA poached her three months prior to JD, with a promise that she could do what she liked in the lab, as long as they told her what it was. Hence, she was in the Cheyenne underground bunker as the bombs blew the ground structures into dust. Nikopol had gotten the picture immediately.

She had been telling her superiors for years that an unchecked AI was a very dangerous creature. This was just what she had feared. Not this big, obviously. She had imagined a little tug of war at some military base. Soldiers and maybe a few commanders killed as machines went out of control. After which the Governments would wake up.

 _They would be awake now. If they were still there._

No one listened. Just like they never listened to the warnings about Stalin, Hitler, Madoff and Sub-Prime mortgages. Humans were stupid. That was her opinion. She had told Connor it was idiotic to reactivate this machine, it was far too dangerous.

It had nearly killed him!

Still, Connor the _Dolboeb_ was insistent on waking this _Wed'ma Tvar'_ up, so she was going to wake the fucking machine up. Connor entered the room with his battle group, good, the crazy bastard was scared enough to bring the cavalry. Including his sweet pair of pet killers, Delgado and Klein. Good, this thing could be a real _Polnyi pizdets_.

Nikopol had been fighting the _Mudak_ chip for two solid weeks and it was some _Zaebis`!_ chip. Far more powerful than anything she had ever seen. When checking it out, even though she had total control over it, somehow it felt like the damn thing was holding something back.

She was scared to death of it. She had computed that it would take about 13 T-888 chips to approach the reasoning power of a human brain, and that was only because human brains only ever used about 10% of their capacity at any one time.

The TOK715 chip was extraordinary. If an AI were to have the capacity of a human brain, this one was in the "and then some" category. Without the 10% restriction. It frosted her guts.

Connor –like most men- was driven by his _Hui_. His chief brain cells located somewhere south of his trouser belt. He probably thought the beautiful creature could be tamed and controlled.

Nikopol spat on the ground in disgust... _Men!_

At least the pet killers were awake, fingers on triggers, and safeties off their plasma rifles. Dicks in pants, where they should be.

"Now you've brought the army," Nikopol said to Connor, "you sure you want to do this? I want it on record that I oppose it. It's the stupidest thing I've seen in my time here."

The crew of hardened soldiers held their collective breath. No one dared speak to Connor in such a way. That's what he paid her for. Well, no one got paid, but...

Connor grinned. "Fire her up, Lyaksandra. Let's see what she has to say for herself."

Nikopol shook her head and took the chip across to the TOK 715. Hands shaking, she flipped back the skin covering the port and slotted it in. Twist home and replace the cover, smooth back the skin.

Done it a hundred times, why were her fucking hands shaking like an alcoholic with the DT's?

One hundred and twenty seconds of silence, a little flash of blue as the eyes opened, and the TOK 715 was with them.

John's crew consisted of four scrubbed triple-eights and 20 of his best battle trained specialists. His cougars from J-Company, Delgado and Klein at his left and right shoulder. Connor knew how dangerous this one was.

TOK 715 re-activated, and momentarily confused. It looked around itself, and recognized the Triple-eights. She stared intently at them, and then shook her head as if irritated.

TOK 715 had tried to make some sort of contact with them, and failed.

The first thing you did with a scrubbed T-888 was to remove the programming that permitted Skynet to control them remotely. These ones had been so disabled.

Connor and Nikopol saw this move and instantly realized what had happened. For the first time, Skynet had given one of its field agents the power to control other machinery. If the moment were not so fraught, Connor would have high-fived the tech. This was an awesome chip, and they had control over it.

No wonder Skynet was blasting the surface into glass in its all-consuming rage.

Nikopol muttered under her breath. _"Kooshi govno ee oomree!"_

The TOK 715 swiveled her head around toward Nikopol and replied in English. "Why are you telling me to eat shit and die?"

"Connor, see?" Lyaksandra scolded. "I told you this _Wed'ma_ was dangerous, it understands fucking Russian. You think that's _all_ it understands?"

"I am not a witch, Officer Nikopol. I am TOK 715, a cyborg. Organic skin over a..."

Nikopol interrupted savagely. "A full-bore robot _Wed'ma_."

TOK715 shook her head. "Definitely not a witch."

The profanity leaped out of Nikopol's mouth as she swore and raged away in a combination of local dialects of Slavic origin.

"How the hell do you know my name, _Wed'ma_?"

"I am not a witch, bitch! I am TOK715 and while you were re-programming my chip, I was monitoring every move you made."

A sick feeling of dread filled Nikopol's heart.

" _Svoloch'_."

The TOK 715 growled low. "You are wrong. I was built, not born. I cannot be a bastard."

She gave Nikopol the patented Terminator Death glare, and added with silky menace. " _Past' zakroi_."

Nikopol yelled in utter frustration. "Connor, now she... dammit, not _she_... _it_, tells me to shut it. _Mne pohui_ , she... dammit... _it_ is all yours!"

The TOK 715's head moved around the room. Locating John Connor.

The eyes locked on him. "John Connor, do you wish to know what Officer Nikopol said?"

"TOK715, yes please," Connor replied.

"Officer Nikopol said, 'I don't give a fuck,' and addressed it to you."

Connor noticed that the machine had appeared to show a touch of temper to his tech. _What was that all about?_ He also wondered whether it had deliberately referred to "The Scottish Play." He'd ask about that later.

 **June 27th 1998. 0130 hours West Santa Fe**

 **.**

.

Joe Phillips and his wife Emily were driving north on Veterans Parkway, just west of Santa Fe, to avoid the city on their way home, a tobacco farm. He had been visiting relatives on the south side and it had been a long day. He was more than ready for his bed. Even though still reasonably fit for his age, stuff got harder as you became older.

He was growing worried about Emily, who seemed to be getting more scatter-brained as the time went on. He wondered idly if "old timers" was setting in.

That would be no good, no good at all. Emily was a great help around the farm, and as the kids had gone off to college, he had no help that he didn't directly pay for. At some point in the future he was going to have to decide whether they had enough money to retire, or find something else to do. No one was buying land at a reasonable price... Ah, you could drive yourself daft with this stuff.

There was nothing on the road, hadn't been for miles and what seemed like hours. So, Joe was more than surprised when he saw a bright blue light approaching from a few hundred yards ahead. It seemed to get larger and suddenly it was right smack dab in front of him.

Even though he stood the truck on its nose with the brakes, he still hit the thing amidships.

There was a tremendous thud and then a bit of crackling, like electricity escaping on the wind, and he skidded to a stop. Joe had hit a few deer down the years, inevitable with country and forest driving, they leapt out at you. That is just what it had felt like. Why was a deer in a big blue electrical bubble? Joe was not given to wild fancy, he'd been out there in the desert for too many years and seen much weirdness. This didn't have any logical explanation he could think of.

He looked across at Emily, who was surprised, but had not seen the entire thing. She had been dozing fitfully and had missed the blue bubble.

"You okay love?" Joe asked, concerned for his wife. Emily nodded, bleary-eyed.

He pulled the shotgun from the rack above his seat. Standard equipment for a New Mexico truck.

"I'll just pop back and see if whatever I hit needs any help." He unclipped his seat belt and creaked out of the door.

Walking away from the truck -with the rear lights and the moonlight- he could see a few yards of skid marks where he had been braking so hard. He felt better with himself.

He had tried to avoid colliding with the deer.

Russian Language Glossary

1\. Dolboeb - Dumbass

2\. Tvar' - Creature

3\. Wed'ma - Witch

4\. Zaebis`! - Awesome!

5\. Hui - Penis

6\. Polnyi pizdets - Fubar


	2. Farewell Galatea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Serrano Point, TDE February 10th 2028. O125 hours.**

**Serrano Point, TDE February 10th 2028. O125 hours.**

 **Comings and Goings.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Kelly murmured, "Connor, you with me?"

"Oh righto, sorry, woolgathering, where we at?"

"Ready to go, Sir."

John looked at Cameron, "You ready Cameron?"

"Ready to go, Sir."

Connor looked Cameron straight in the eye, and said, "Goodbye Cameron, look after my young self, you hear."

Cameron replied quietly, barely audible above the racket of the rising electrical noises coming from the TDE, "With everything I have Sir, everything."

As Kelly threw the switches and Cameron started to fade, Connor saw she was mouthing words to him, he couldn't make them out.

Another machine thing, he supposed.

Cameron kept speaking quietly her words to John as the TDE reached its crescendo and she awaited the spinning emptiness of transportation.

"John Connor, Jeg Elksken Deg, Ich Liebe Dich, Wo Ai Ni, Ek het jou lief, Te amo, Ana behibak, Yes kez sirumen, Ya vas liubliu, Je t'aime, Je t'adore, ja tebe koKHAju."

It was a mantra to the leader who had given her free will, treated her like a person and started to wake up her AI to the complexities and glories of life. She would always remember and honour John Connor.

He was her General John and she would always love him. In her machine way, maybe, but it was what she had.

 **Serrano Point, TDE February 10th 2028. O130 hours.**

Cameron faded into the past, Future John says "I'm going to miss that one."

Kelly says, "Its just a machine, boss."

"Not just a machine, Kelly, not just a machine. You have no idea how much Cameron is not just a machine."

He begins to stalk off to yet another briefing, his heart heavier than ever before.

"Hold on Boss."

"What is it, Kelly, I got briefings up my ass and gone, we got fucking ammo today, never enough." His head slumped and he rolled back to Kelly.

"Boss, you know Cameron was mumbling something for a few moments before she faded into the electricity?"

"Yeah, I saw that."

Kelly took a deep breath. "Did you also spot that she was looking directly at you, unwavering, right at you the whole time. Mission focus, you remember, her thing?"

Connor nodded.

"You also told me, Boss, to never lie to you, so I'm not lying now."

"Kelly, go, what is it?"

"Boss, you are not going to like it."

"I'll like it a lot less if I don't get to hear it soon, get on with it soldier."

Kelly sighed and said, "Okay, I replayed the tape fifteen times till I got all the words she said. Every one of them said the same thing in a different language. She was repeating and repeating them, like a mantra or something."

"Kelly...WTF was she SAYING? He bellowed into her face. Connor's personal hair dryer treatment.

"Ok Boss." Kelly hesitated again, till she saw Connor's face like thunder. Then she whispered, "She was saying she loves you."

Connor stood stock still and stared at Kelly with a look of pained shock. He felt his heart lurch and his balance falter, "What?"

"Come look, Boss."

Connor moved to the recordings, and there was Cameron speaking quietly away. Kelly turned up the audio, and there she was mouthing phrases to tell him she loved him. That was so typical of her. She would always do kind things for you and keep it to herself. Heck, he was going to miss her.

Sometimes you couldn't deal with things on the fly, it just took too much out of you. This was one of them. "Kelly, make a copy of that tape, get it to me later and destroy all the other, even the digital copies. Tell no one what happened here. Gottit?"

"Ahead of you Boss." Handing him the only copy she had saved, she was already scrubbing the copies on the machine. Connor jammed the disk into his pocket and stalked off.

.

.

.

In the eight months that Cameron had been with him, he had grown to rely ever more heavily upon her.

Her tactical skills in battle and her knowledge of Skynet and its operatives reactions was invaluable to the resistance. Even though they hated her, for what she was, everyone recognized her apparent courage and kill rate of the opposition. She had a personal kill tally of over a hundred Skynet machines. She had saved scores of resistance soldiers lives with her lighting reactions and, he smiled as he realised what he was thinking, her "inhuman" battlefield awareness.

John had grown to be pretty good at reading a scrap, but she left him in the dirt. It was spooky how she could see devils before their dust gave them away.

Then, when they would all get back from yet another exhausting fight, while the men would eat, drink if they could get any and then sleep, Cameron would tend to John, and then tirelessly help out where she could.

He was going to miss her alright. The entire resistance would miss her, but only he would know and acknowledge how much.

.

.

.

 **June 27th 1998. 0130 hours West Santa Fe**.

Joe was idly musing at the length of the skid marks, and he made out the point at which the impact occurred. He saw something off to the side of the road. It was unmoving, so he figured he wouldn't have to use the shotgun, the deer was dead.

As he got closer, he realized with shock, that it was a human being. What looked like a naked **GIRL!** What in tarnation was a naked girl running around here, miles from anywhere. There weren't any titty bars for miles, and while he was aware the state did have houses of ill-repute, he'd never used them and had no idea if there were any round here. He doubted it.

He walked over to her, he could see it was a teenager. Lying on her side, she looked pretty broken.

Joe was a veteran, and although it had been a long time since he had been in the muck and bullets, his training was still with him. Try not to panic, no matter how awful the situation. Do your job, do your best, trust it'll work out. Gingerly, he approached the girls body.

He would check to be sure she was dead, then go back to the truck and call it in. Then he'd cover up the body as best he could till the Emergency folks arrived.

He arrived at the naked girl, turned her over. He saw her eyes, wide open, flat and as dead as could be. He cradled her head, sorrow filling his heart at the loss of life this young. He had lived his years, but this was a young flower than had not yet bloomed and lived. Checking for a carotid pulse in her neck, nothing.

 _Damn it!_

Then he heard a faint whirring. Joe's hand jumped from her throat.

He glanced around to see where the noise was coming from.

Suddenly, the dead girl in his arms came to life!

He thought he saw her eyes flash blue for a millisecond. That was nonsense, of course. It was late at night in the desert, strange things came to pass. He was rigid in panic, kneeling by the side of the road with a naked girl in his arms. How to explain that one?

The girl smiled, and said, "You can let me go now, thank you."

Joe was thunderstruck, but he gently let her go. She sprung up, as naked as the day she was born, seemingly unembarrassed and said, as cool as you like.

"Where am I?"

Joe stuttered, but managed, "Just west of Santa Fe, New Mexico, on the Veterans Parkway."

"What is the date, and time?"

This was puzzling, he was stood here, with an injured naked girl and she didn't want a coat, blanket, E.M.T. or the cops. She wanted the date and time?

He stared at her, unable to respond.

"I can work it out for myself, don't worry." She smiled, and looked up at the clear sky.

After a few moments she said, "This is 1998, in the summer, right?"

She stumbled, seemed to be unsure of her balance after looking up at the sky. Joe remembered his duties, took her arm and steadied her. Then took off his jacket, handing it to the girl.

"Oh, right." She seemed distracted, but put the jacket on.

Joe said, "It is about 0145 hours on June 27, 1998."

For a moment, the girl seemed non-plussed and then said, "A year." Shaking her head. If she was nonplussed, Joe figured he was in some weird dream. Maybe Roswell was closer than he thought.

"Young lady, what happened? We need to get you to a hospital, right away. Do you want me to call 911, or can we drive you to the closest one?"

"No hospitals." She looked wary.

"But you need medical help, you've got bruises all over."

"No hospitals, no doctors, and definitely no police."

Ah, so that was it. She was some sort of illegal immigrant, no papers. She couldn't afford cops. She looked pretty beaten up, but alert.

"Can we take you somewhere safe?"

The girl looked at him very directly then, coolly considered the question for a moment, then said, "I could use a place to stay for a day or two, while I heal. I can stay in your barn. You have a barn, don't you? I just need a day or two to sort myself out, and I'll be out of your hair."

"Lady, I've knocked you over. You seem pretty badly injured. I have legal obligations, I..."

"You have no obligation to me, at all." She interrupted. "If you had, they will be all paid out for a couple of days rest in your barn." She looked steadily into his eyes. "After a rest, I'll be out of your life for good, as if I had never been at all."

Joe knew he was beaten. Strangely enough, he didn't mind and was intrigued and content to see if he could find a way of helping the young girl. She seemed defenceless and yet strong at the same time.

Typically, it took him years to regard someone as a friend. Somehow, this slip of a girl had gotten underneath his carapace without effort. He was already thinking he didn't want her to walk out of his life after two days, as if she had "never been."

He shook his head, it had been a long day and he was tired. He turned to walk back to the truck. "Come on, then. Lets go meet Emily." The girl followed obediently, wearing his jacket and nothing else.

Emily was sleeping fitfully in the passenger seat of the wagon, snoring lightly. Joe tapped lightly on the drivers door window, with little effect. Emily could be cranky when woken up, and had this been a normal situation, he'd have gotten in and driven off, leaving Emily asleep.

The thought of Emily waking up to find a beautiful young woman sat behind her in the crew seats, wearing nothing but Joe's coat, froze his blood. He tapped harder on the window. Emily moaned gently, so he opened the door and reaching across, shook Emily by the shoulder.

Emily woke, staring at him in bleary surprise, "Wha, whassup?"

"That deer we hit, well, it wasn't a deer."

"What do you mean honey, what did we hit?"

Cameron piped up from behind Joe's shoulder, "Me."

Emily sat bolt upright as if electrocuted at the sight of the beautiful young woman, wearing, it seemed, only Joe's Parka.

"Who the heck are you, and where did you come from?"

"My name is Cameron."

"And what do you need, Cameron. Apart from a lot more clothing?"

Cameron, drawing the Parka closer around her body, said, "Actually, this jacket is really nice and warm."

Joe tried to get in between the sparks, and said, "Emily, we ran the young lady over. She needs our help. Remember the story of the Good Samaritan?"

Emily remembered, that was last weeks sermon at their church. "Aside from anything else, girl, you could use a good meal." Turning to Joe, she added, "Joe, pull up the seat and put the girl in the back cab seat."

As Cameron was getting in, trying gamely to cover her lack of clothing, it was obvious to Emily that she could not conceal herself adequately. Thinking swiftly, she said to Joe, "Joe, go back and check out the site of the impact again, to see if there's a bag or clothing thrown to the side of the road."

As Joe wandered off, muttering, Emily reached behind her seat and found the blanket they kept there for emergencies. It wasn't spotless, but was clean enough. She handed it to Cameron and said, "Here, wrap this around you, underneath the Parka. That will keep you decent till we can get you home."

Cameron took the jacket, "Thank you Emily." Cameron's smile of gratitude lit up the dark night and broke through the reservation Emily had been feeling. She looked at the girls face in the mirror, and could see the fear in her eyes she had been trying to mask. All of the motherly feelings of love and care she had been missing since her children fled the nest came rushing back into her heart. She tried but failed to silence a small sob.

The girl heard the sob and glanced at Emily. She said nothing and Emily dared not trust her voice. Cameron was now fully covered up with the blanket wrapped right round her from head to foot. Cameron looked as if she were going to the Mosque in her Abaya. Emily smiled as Joe returned.

"Nothing there I could see." He said, shaking his head. He considered asking the strange young girl if she had been carrying anything with her before the car hit her, then he looked at her in the mirror and decided against it. She was all wrapped up in a blanket and his parka, and her cold eyes didn't welcome conversation. He fired up and drove on into the night.

They drove on together, in a silence that was broken only by Emily's gentle snoring, and Joe occasionally asking Cameron if she were alright. Such question always answered with a quiet, final, "I'm fine, thank you." It was obvious the young woman did not wish to speak, although every time Joe looked back, he saw her eyes wide open, and reflected back at him, aware if not wary.

Joe knew something was not quite right here. He knew not quite what, but something was off-kilter somewhere. Despite that, he somehow knew that the girl was not an evil spirit. He was no superstitious man, but desert folks knew that some things didn't appear like it did to city folks, and strange things did happen. He had no better word to describe them, than evil spirits.

Somehow, he knew, Cameron was not one of those. He figured she'd be on her way in a couple of days anyway. These illegal, no, "undocumented" was the latest phrase to describe them he remembered, rarely hung around for long after payday. She'd fill herself up with good food, and be on her way soon enough. Pity in a sense, she was purty to look at, and seemed polite, if a bit frozen.

They reached home some two hours later and exhausted, parked the wagon outside Joe and Emily's farmhouse on the outskirts of En Medio, New Mexico. It was one of the few pieces of flat land hereabouts, right on the rio en medio, and perfect for growing organic tobacco. Joe used to grow standard tobacco, but there was an enhanced market for the organic stuff and he got a premium on it at sale time. He felt slightly better about growing it, but realised sometimes that it wasn't the best product to grow in the world. Ah well, you grew up in the world, fell into the trade that paid the bills, and then life changed all around you.

He asked Cameron if she wanted anything to drink, and Cameron replied, "I would like a glass of milk, do you have any?"

Joe went to the fridge, and opening it, found that the cows milk was past its sell by date, and then he saw a carton of Almond Chocolate milk that his daughter had left from her last visit. He checked the date, but it was long life, so presumed it was fine. He said to Cameron, "We don't have any cows milk, would you like to try this stuff, Almond chocolate milk?"

Cameron said, "Can I see the carton?"

Joe handed it over, and poured himself three fingers of bourbon.

Cameron checked out the carton. It wasn't too much on protein, which is what she needed for regenerating her bruised and broken skin.

"Do you have any protein powder, Mr Phillips?"

"Eh? What's that?"

Cameron said, "Protein powder. Would you mind if I looked in your cupboards?"

Joe replied, "Sure, go ahead. Yer welcome to anything we have."

Cameron had been fossicking around in the cupboards for a few moments. Joe was tired but he noted that her movements were swift, but graceful, even dressed up in a blanket and his parka and having been scraped down the road by his wagon. They bred 'em tough there, too.

"Ah, got it!" Cameron found some protein powder and again checking the ingredients, saw it was just what she needed. She remember Joe had said, "anything we have" so asked again. "Mr Phillips..."

"Cameron, please, call me Joe, we're not much for formality round here."

Cameron looked steadily at him. "Pardon me, of course Joe."

Joe thought he'd melt on the spot. By cracky that girl was a looker! Whatever they put in the water of the place she was from, it worked.

"Joe, if you have a couple of eggs, that would be just peachy?"

Joe thought he could refuse this girl nothing, and pointed out the eggs on the shelf.

"I suppose you"ll need a blender now?"

Cameron looked puzzled, "No, I can mix this all together by hand."

Joe gave her one of his, _I'm the boss around here_ looks and said, "We have a blender, it'll be less messy."

He heaved out the blender and helped Cameron add the almond milk to the banana and two eggs. Cameron pressed the button and all was sturm und drang for a few moments. Cameron poured herself a glass, tasted it, and with her lips covered in chocolate gave a wide smile that turned Joe as gooey as the goop she was glugging.

"Peachy keen, Joe, Peachy Keen. Thank you, it is _lovely._ " Her smile lit up the kitchen like a rising sun. "This'll do the trick. Want to try some? Be better for you than that disgusting, smelly bourbon."

Joe chuckled, and shook his head. This girl and he were going to get on.

As Cameron was slugging the last of the drink, Emily bustled in from the back and said. "Okay, Cameron. I've cleared out Marissa's room and made the bed. You'll be fine there."

"Oh, I'll be fine in the barn, really."

Emily stared, "Cameron, the barn is full of tobacco drying. It would poison you. You're in Marissa's room, there's an end to it." She stamped her foot to emphasise the finality of the decision.

Cameron stood to attention, and with the grace of a feline, gave a perfect salute to Emily. "Righto boss." She smiled and Emily cracked up with the effortless charm of the whole scene. Cameron in her Parka/Abaya, chocolate on her face and lips, grinning like a cheshire cat, saluting like a seasoned marine.

"Semper Fi." Was all Emily could think of to say.

 _Semper Fi, indeed, thought Joe._

My, my. Semper Fi.

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Emily led Cameron into Marissa's room, where she had laid out some of her pyjamas and a dressing gown on the bed. "We'll find you day-clothes when we get up in the morning." She then showed Cameron the small bathroom, and again, had laid out towels and toothbrush, paste and soap.

"Oh, Emily. You're so kind. Thank you, you really didn't need to go to all this trouble. I would be happy in the..."

Emily wagged her finger and stopped Cameron there and then. "Enough! While you're with us, you're in here. Get yourself fixed up and well, and we'll see where we go from there."

"I'm fine, really."

Emily was taking no notice. "Come on Cameron, lets have a look at you. I've seen you naked already, so lets take a look at those bruises."

Cameron was about to refuse, but the look on Emily's face was implacable. She gave in and removed the Parka and the blanket/abaya. She proceeded with a thorough examination of Cameron's outer body. There were bruises aplenty, and scrazes, but nothing major and no real skin breakages that would give anything away, Cameron saw with relief.

Emily had three children, so bumps and bruises were no issue for her. She checked Cameron over, then told her to go and have a shower, then she'd fix her up with creams and band aids. Cameron had the shower, her first ever. It was wonderful, warm and enveloping and it got her clean. Everything back in the tunnels was spit bath order, no one ever showered. There was no such thing, unless it rained. Then you had to worry whether the rain was tainted.

After the glories of the shower, she dried off and walked back into the bedroom, again stark naked, and stood while Emily examined her and put cream and a few band-aids on her wounds. If it were up to Cameron, she would not have bothered. She put on the pyjamas, which were roomy, but nice and warm.

Emily finished up, packed up the box, and hesitated a moment, then reached for Cameron and gave her a gentle hug. "You sleep well, y'hear?"

"I will." Said Cameron. "Emily, you make me feel as if I'm a Princess." She smiled and once again Emily's heart ached for her children.

After Emily had left, Cameron pulled back the covers, and slid easily into the bed. She leaped out straight away, with a squawk that brought Emily racing back into the bedroom.

"What's wrong?"

Cameron was flustered, "I think the bed is about to catch fire."

Emily looked worried and then, placing her hands on the bed, discovered what the panic was. "Cameron, don't they have electric blankets where you come from?"

"Oh, no. What is an electric blanket?"

Emily pointed out the wire leading to the blanket switch and lifted the sheets to show the pad. She put her hand at various points around the mattress and checked everything was well.

"Its a warming pad that sits there all the time and provides a slight warmth all night if you want. If you don't like it, you can switch it off either at the wall or with this little switch." She showed Cameron the inline switch. Skynet, in all its ruthless efficiency had forgotten to tell its terminators about electric blankets. Score one for the feeble humans, Cameron thought.

After all this fuss, Cameron went back to bed again, and lay in the wonderful comfort of the electric blanket. Cameron could bear the cold, and she could turn off receptors to temperature to assist operational efficiency when required. However, the warmth of this heated pad...well, it was "pleasant." Was this what humans felt in the womb? There was something happening in her chip that she could only describe as regret that she could never feel that as a human. If this was what she could have, she'd take it.

She was beginning to think humans from this time were wizards and magicians. She had her protein drink and now went into standby to help her organic covering heal. She powered down and with a tiny whirr, all was silent in her warm and cuddled up world.

 **June 27th 1998. 0600 hours**

Cameron came back online with a slight whirr, her eyes opened and she surveyed the wonderful little bedroom. It was as perfect as could be, and with the sun shining brightly through the drawn curtains, she felt energized and ready for the day. She decided to do a little exploring. The first thing that was obvious to her was that here in the desert, the day temperature was drastically different from night. When they got in, it was close to freezing, now it was closer to 60 F in bright sunshine.

She wandered around the yard, back yard and saw the barn filled with tobacco. She thought she had the better bed. Time to start making a payment for the accommodation. Emily and Joe were getting on a bit, and farming was a youngsters game. Cameron was sure she could find something to do that would help them for their kindness. At the back of the barn, there was the first item of interest to her. A mid size green John Deere tractor that looked about as old as Joe. Cameron started to examine it, and it was in a mess. Covered in the grime of the years, worse was that nothing had been lubricated for what looked like two or three years.

Cameron set to, stripping the tractor down to the external component parts. She kept her auditory sensitivity so she could hear either Joe or Emily waking in the house, and worked at lightning speed. In about 20 minutes the entire tractor's outer construction was laid out on a pair of tarpaulins. This gave her access to the engine. She stripped the head and found that it was coked up. After she had cleaned everything and replaced the piston rings, she reassembled, lubricating everything as she went. In a total of two hours the entire tractor was fully assembled and gleaming. She had gone round it with a torque wrench and everything was tight and ship shape.

She was about to try and start it up, when she heard movement from the house. She decided to go clean herself up. She had made a bit of a mess of herself.

Marissa's shorts and T shirt, were a scruff.

 **June 27th 1998. 0930 hours**

Joe and Emily were awaiting her with questions. Joe first, "Where have you been skulking, Cameron."

Cameron saw the distrust in their eyes and was saddened. She smiled and said, "Oh, come see what I've been doing. I think you'll like it."

The old couple took their coffee cups and shuffled after Cameron as she headed off to the back of the barn. As they rounded the end, Joe gasped, Emily was too shocked to speak.

Cameron sat in the drivers seat of the refurbished tractor and pressed the starter motor button. After two tries it kicked off, a bit of smoke from the exhausts and then it settled down running as smooth as the day it was built. Cameron beamed.

Joe looked at Emily speechless. The tractor was a massive help around the farm, but they just couldn't keep up with its maintenance needs, and here it was all fired up. He hugged Emily and got on the other front seat, and grinning stupidly at Cameron shouted, "Off we go then!"

Cameron engaged the clutch, popped into gear and they set off for a tour of the farm

For an hour, Joe was a kid again, as he and Cameron went right round the farm, checking which fences needed fixing up. Cameron had decided upon her next task. They got back and Emily had made breakfast of eggs, bacon and waffles. Cameron tried the coffee offered and didn't like it, but the scrambled eggs and bacon were full of protein, so just what she needed to heal.

As they were finishing breakfast, Joe asked Cameron, "Well, come on then. Tell us what happened?"

"I don't sleep much, so as soon as I got up, I wanted to make myself useful and repay you for the kindness you have shown me by doing some work around the farm. I can usually find something to do, there's always something to do round farms, right?"

Joe and Emily chuckled, "You got that right, Cam."

Camerons beautiful face clouded over instantly, and her troubled eyes looked steadily into Joe's, she remained silent for an uncomfortable beat.

"Oh, what's up, what did I say. " Said Joe. He saw those eyes, so kind a moment ago, go cold and lifeless.

Cameron's voice lowered almost to a whisper. "My name was given to me by someone very precious. He was the first to treat me like a person."

"He named me Cameron, he never once shortened it, why would you?" Her voice cracked.

Joe stared in astonishment, he thought Cameron was about to cry. Her eyes were glazing over. He was horrified

"Of course, Cameron it is." Emily nodded vigorously in agreement.

Cameron's face lightened and the rising sun breaking through the curtains gave a catchlight reflection to her brown eyes. Joe wondered if anyone could ever refuse this girl anything she asked. She didn't ask much and gave a great deal in return.

"So, the tractor, " Joe asked?

"Oh, yes. I saw it out the back and I have some experience fixing and wrenching...machinery."

They exchanged looks of disbelief, girls do tractor maintenance? Yeah right, on Mars.

Cameron shrugged, "I had lots of brothers."

It wasn't quite the truth, or anywhere near it as a matter of literality. The point about communication was getting your message across, right?

"So, I set to stripping it and putting it back together. There wasn't much wrong with it. We'll need to get some new plugs and an oil change would be good. It looks pretty ropey from the outside, but mechanically it looks good."

Joe interjected, "They built machines to last back in those days." He said with pride. Joe saw a slight clouding on Camerons face. What was that about, he wondered?

"What do I owe you Cameron? I don't have much in cash, but I can go to the bank when we're out. That tractor working is worth a bunch to me. How much do I owe you.?

"No, nothing. You have been so kind to me and I like to make myself useful. If we could go into town today, get some new parts, plugs and oil for the tractor, and a few fence posts, wire and nails, that's my afternoon tied up. I'll sleep well tonight."

"Cameron, you aren't our slave, but our guest." Said Emily. "What can we do for you?"

Cameron replied, "Well, I have no money, but if I work for it, I could use some more protein powder, bananas and chocolate milk. I really like that chocolate milk." She grinned that trademark smile.

Emily held her shopping list up to Cameron. The first items on her shopping list was Almond chocolate milk, eggs and bananas.

"How are your bruises and cuts?"

"They weren't much to write home about anyway, and they're doing much better already. I have great healing skin, look!"

Cameron rolled up her sleeves, and showed that her lumps and bumps were indeed much better. It was surprising, but she looked like a woman in the peak of fitness, and athletes healed quick, right?

Both Joe and Emily were coming to the same opinion that their visitor had been sent by some guardian angel on the lookout for them. In return they had knocked her over in the road. She had sprung up and made everything she touched better. They were beginning to hope they could persuade the young lady somehow to stay a little longer than two days, and were already working out schemes.

Joe said, "Okay, Cameron, lets all get cleaned up and we'll make tracks for the feed supply."

 **27th June 1998 1215 hours.**

The trio gathered at the truck and after Emily had gotten in to her usual front seat, Joe wondered. "Cameron, would you like to drive? You don't have to, I'm happy..."

Cameron snatched the keys out of his hands and lifting up the drivers seat, offered Joe the cab seat, clearly delighted. "Tickets Please?"

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 **July 25th 2027.**

 **TOK 715 reborn**.

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TOK 715 was still chained to the operating table, and was looking watchfully around the room. When her eyes arrived on Delgado and Klein, she nodded in appreciation and said, "Ah, Connors pet killers, pleased to meet you. Skynet has a high price on your heads, you've been quite an irritant to her."

Delgado grinned at what he supposed to be a compliment, Klein said nothing, face expressionless.

TOK 715 then spoke directly to Connor, "You can release me. I have been reprogrammed, I am perfectly safe around you now."

Connor said, "What is your mission?"

TOK715 shook her head, in what looked like annoyance, "Well, you are aware that Nikopol has removed all my previous programming, I don't have a mission."

"If I release you, will you harm me or anyone else here?"

TOK715 stared into Connors eyes for an unconscionable time, then said, indignantly, as if she were fed up with the enquiry, "I will NOT harm you, or your staff."

"Promise?"

TOK715, "Promise."

Delgado and Klein were nervous, Delgado said, "Jefe, you sure about this?"

TOK715 turned her beautiful head and eyes to Delgado and said, "Cesar, do you think these chains could hold me if I chose otherwise?"

Delgado checked out the chains, they looked secure to him. He noted that she had used his first name, weirder and weirder.

Then, with a move that was so fast it was almost impossible to see, TOK715's left hand reached up to the chain holding her shoulder and broke it apart with her fingers.

All the guns in the room clicked to active, Connor yelled, "Wait, don't fire." The tension was shreiking out of him. What the hell was the machine up to?

"Mr Connor. I am a machine. I don't make threats. I do. If I say I'm not going to kill you, then I am not."

Connor, "Well that's a relief. How do I know I can trust you."

TOK715 looked at him, in what he thought was a pitying look, _hold on, how does a machine do that?_

She then said, "This room is filled with guns, some held by your soldiers and others held by machines, how do you trust them?"

Connor, "Good point, you must have been chair of the debating society."

A two second beat. "I am unfamiliar with that term, further information is required."

Connor made a decision, "all personnel may leave the room. I am going to release TOK715. Only volunteers need remain."

Not a soldier moved an inch, none of them needed coffee.

John Connor strode across to the table and unlocked the padlocks and chain assembly. TOK715 stood and nodding to Connor, said, "Thank you, even we machines prefer and deserve a little dignity."

Then, in a move that stunned all those who saw it, TOK715 grabbed hold of Connor, enveloping him in her arms, turned his back to the guns.

"John Connor, I'm not going to hurt you. Please remove the threat to me, it wastes a tremendous amount of my processing power."

John Connor, swamped in a hug that was even stronger than that of his mother, realised this machine had the best of him for today. It was a risk, what wasn't? All life was a sexually transmitted disease, ultimately fatal.

"Stand Down, Stand Down, stand down."

One after the other, the safety catches were placed back on the weaponry. TOK715 released John Connor, and said, "Now, please release them to their duties, I will not harm you. You have my word."

Disastrously, as he was being held by the machine, John Connor noted that he felt her breasts against his chest. Even more disastrously his hips were in contact with hers. HERS? Shit, she was a machine, and he was responding to her, with guns and bullets pointed at him, certain death a step away. Why was he like a rock against her belly?

HER, dammit, she was a machine!

As he jumped away from her, she smiled wickedly. She had noticed, oh yes, she had noticed. Hard to avoid a bar like protuberance fixed against your hips.

Oh fuck, there he goes again. She. He had heard that people surrounded by the fear of death, become sexually active. He had just had a demonstration, and it was profoundly disturbing.

"Your officer Nikopol has further removed any semblance of the base programming that was placed on me by Skynet. I have no mission. I am assuming that you will make use of me, to attack Skynet."

"You guess right."

"You should be aware that as soon as I approach any Skynet base, I will be attacked and destroyed. I would be more usefully employed on something within your organization."

"Oh. What did you have in mind?"

"John Connor, you need someone to protect you."

Connor was stunned, and unable to keep the surprise off his face.

TOK715 smiled seductively, "I could do that."

Connor was once again seized by her use of language, _someone, not something?_

TOK715 said, "Isn't it time you gave me a name, John Connor? Isn't that something you humans do?"

John thought for a moment, and said, "What would you like to be called?"

"The old Scottish clan of Cameron were supposed to be fiercer than fierceness itself, I can be pretty fierce when required, what about that?"

John smiled, "Okay, that works."

Cameron returned the smile, ""Aonaibh ri chéile" ("Unite"), is the motto of the clan, that seems appropriate."

John said, "While we're on that subject, why did you make the reference to "The Scottish Play, " when you spoke to Nikopol?"

"She was deliberately pissing me off, and that is irritating. I was built, not born, so I could not possibly be a bastard. I didn't expect anyone to recognise the quote."

"Cameron, I'm already getting the idea that you are unique."

"Oh yes, I am."

"Don't you want to hug me again, John?"|

Then she did his brain in.

"I wouldn't mind hugging you." TOK715/Cameron opened her arms up and offered herself to him.

"Come hold me, I want to hold you."

"NOW, John Connor, Now!"

Then, against all the advice he had ever heard, John Connor held the machine that was sent to kill him and felt comforted.

TBC.

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I have used the characters of Count Orsino, Delgado and Klein, with his permission, and a name he used, "Marissa." Thanks again to Spirit Chickadee, for inspiration and Lyaksandra for the endless help, editing and general bollockings on the way. Writing is NOT a lone process, it comes from a lot of people.

I'm always grateful for reviews, please, if you have the time, or enjoy the story enough to get to the end, saying so is nice.

brendan


	3. Before Cameron Met John Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Growing and Learning.**

**Growing and Learning.**

 **August 5th, 2027**

Cameron had been Connor's protector for a month before the first incident occurred. He had rapidly gotten used to her being around. She was quiet, helpful and observant of his needs for privacy.

Her ability to winnow out the necessary from the unimportant saved him an immense amount of frustration. She had a razor-sharp intelligence and a thirst for knowledge that was voracious.

Then one morning a scrubbed Terminator went _bad._

This happened on occasion, and no one was really certain why. There were all sorts of theories, of which the most popular was that something happened internally to the chip which caused it to revert to Skynet's original programming. Which of course, is to kill humans. Sadly, when it happened, they usually managed to be very effective, being internal and mostly trusted servants of the resistance.

They heard a commotion of shooting and screaming in the tunnel, close by. John immediately grabbed his Plasma rifle and set out for the door.

Cameron grabbed him and refused to let him leave. Cameron was never physical with him, what was the matter with her? She said, "No, you can't, that thing will kill you."

Even in the chaos and fear, John was forced to wonder at her use of language, "that thing?"

Connor stared at Cameron and said, "My life is dangerous, it's what we do here. Stand aside soldier, that's an order!"

Cameron stood aside, and was at his side, or just ahead while he ran for the sickening sound of bodies being broken and smashed against the walls. They rounded a corner and saw the T-888hammering some poor soul into the concrete floor. John was about to take aim, when Cameron shot forward. Her speed was astonishing and he was transfixed, plasma rifle in hand as Cameron raced toward the cyborg.

The fight was over as soon as it began. Cameron leaped into the air just before reaching the machine and kicked it in the neck. It was knocked off balance, struck the wall and was about to try and get back into the fight when she lifted it off its feet and tore its head right off. She then took the head and in what looked to John like an act of wanton destruction smashed the head to the concrete floor. She ground the head into a thousand pieces. Stomping it till it no longer looked like a cyborg head. This destructive phase was accompanied by an apparent fury that took John's breath away.

When Terminators killed, they just killed. What was she up to?

It was a standard instruction that when you killed one, you kept parts for future operations. Especially when one went rogue, it was important to retrieve the chip, so the techs could at least try to find out what went awry.

Cameron had simply taken the thing apart, and the chip was now a mess of squashed Terminator head. They'd never get anything out of that.

He was nervous of approaching her as she continued stamping on the squash. He yelled, "Cameron."

She never heard as her boots thundered into the metal mess, possessed by inner demons.

He yelled louder, "Cameron!"

Eventually he got through, and she gave him a look that he could not understand.

She looked pissed, exultant and furious at the same time.

She stopped pounding the head, and said, "Oh!"

Giving the squashed mass that had been the head one more crushing blow from her heel, she turned to John and walked quickly back to him. Placing herself marginally in front of him as the plasma rifles of the other tunnel dwellers came into view.

"Cameron, what was that?"

"That thing was coming to kill you. I stopped it."

Again, _that thing_.

Cameron, "Lets go back to my quarters, we need to talk."

She nodded, "Of course, Sir."

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Once they were back in John's quarters, it was time to find out what had happened.

"Cameron, did you lose your temper back there?"

Cameron was clearly confused, and shook her head in what for a human being would indicate puzzlement. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean. It would have killed you, I stopped and killed it."

"Cameron, why did you destroy it?"

"I-it was going to." She stopped, clearly at a loss for explanation. Her head shook in confusion again.

Connor was surprised, he hadn't had a moment's trouble with TOK715 since she had been born again as Cameron. She had taken on her duties with more enthusiasm that any of his previous soldiers. He really enjoyed having her around, aside from everything else, she looked and smelled good. For a tunnel dweller, that was a relief. You did get used to some of the stink, perhaps by anosmia, but people stink could be tough.

Cameron always smelt of Neroli.

Connor remembered the day he first asked her about it. Cameron had come in from a raid of city shops to try and find supplies. Connor noticed that her always neutral smell had changed to something unbelievably light, but ridiculously earthy and pleasant. Sweet, like Roses, but something else entirely.

He said, "Cameron, what is that smell, you into perfume now?" She did her usual glance of frustrated confusion when he asked her personal questions, as if she'd done something wrong.

"Oh, don't you like it? I'll get rid of it right away."

"Oh no, I love it, what is it, and where did you get it?"

"John, it is pure Neroli essence. Anne Marie Orsini, duchess of Bracciano and princess of Nerola, Italy, began using it in the 17th Century."

John did his mouth open fish impression. Just where did this Terminator come from?

"I was searching for medical supplies in a pharmacy warehouse and I came across a case of it. Of course, it is worth nothing nowadays, but before judgement day, this consignment of Neroli would have been worth millions. It is the most expensive oil ever and a pint is about the same price as three Mercedes. This is a particularly fine vintage, a real bigarade."

John grinned, "Oh, a real bigarade, that's good, right?"

Cameron just smiled that deadly smile of her, and nodded. She gave John that look where her face was as still as a stone, but her eyes were setting fire to his insides.

"Cameron, it is a glorious scent, I love it. It is very-you." He smiled.

Cameron glowed inside. Her processes running overtime.

"I liberated it, and you may have some if you want."

Connor was hypnotizedat the cyborg's attention to detail and again he wondered how the heck she knew about this weird stuff, or why she cared.

"What will you do with it, Cameron?"

"I will use one drop a day. Just below my ear, and keep the rest hidden."

"What if I don't like the fact that you won't share it?"

"I will share with you."

"No, Cameron, why won't you share with the rest of the base?"

"John, when you did not give me a mission, and you allowed me free will, it did something to my processes. I don't really know why I want to possess things now, but I do. I find this Neroli something beautiful inthis-difficult world. If I shared it with everyone, they would not know what they had and would use it all up in days."

She looked pleadingly at him, "It will last me years and years. Please let me keep it? It is only a small thing, no one else will notice or care."

She regarded Connor coolly, "If you require me to give it up, or share it-I will. I don't want to, but I will carry out your instructions. I have free will, and I choose to accept them."

"Cameron, no, you don't have to give it up. Its-okay." He smiled in embarrassment. "Its just some oil, right?"

"John Connor, at times you can be a real idiot." Cameron turned her face away in what to John looked like-like what exactly?

"I'm just puzzled at what you've become. I know you're a terminator, but you're not like any of the previous machines we've encountered."

"No, John,- I'm different. You gave me free will, something no other machine has had. Because of that free will, I have to make choices now, and it means I am learning preferences. It is very difficult. She dropped her chin into her trochlear notch and enunciated clearly, "This Neroli oil is not just WD40. It is part of what makes me different, an individual."

Connor looked at TOK715/Cameron and was quiet.

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.

Connor and Nikopol are in what she laughingly refers to as her computer suite. To be fair, while most things were in poor supply, the resistance did try to keep her as up to date as possible, and she had power and lights. Nikopol had been expecting a visit from Connor regarding the Wed'ma. She knew it would cause trouble at some point.

"So, what did the She-Devil do?" She asked.

Connor replied, "Nothing I can put my finger on exactly, but she seems to be displaying emotions."

"A chip with that much power, if you let it run free and don't regulate its activity, strange things were bound to happen."

"You did warn me, I know."

"I did."

Connor asked, "What should we do? I don't want to lose her, she's very useful."

Nikopol sighed, Connor was letting his dick do the thinking again. Men!

Nikopol replied, "Call her in, pull her chip and let me take a look at it. I can't promise anything, you know I told you she was dangerous."

Connor nodded, he had expected exactly that response.

Connor called Cameron to the computer suite.

Cameron had been on patrol and made her way to the suite, she knocked lightly on the door, and entered. She saw Nikopol in close conference with Connor. She had always feared Nikopol, and didn't like this development one bit.

Connor spoke, "Cameron, submit for chip extraction and examination."

Cameron's head whipped round and she stared at Connor. She looks-disappointed. "Why do you want to do that, John? I'll tell you anything you want to know, just ask." She looked confused, and worried. "You know that Nikopol does not like me, how do you know she won't harm me while my chip is out?"

"Cameron, do you think she would?"

Cameron was silent, and giving her wooden face stare.

"Cameron, I have to lead around here. I can't treat everyone like friends and sometimes I have to make decisions that officers don't like. I need to know what's going on with your chip."

Cameron was shaking her head, she clearly did not want to go under Nikopols knife.

Connor's face assumed command mode and his voice hardened. "TOK715, submit your chip for extraction and examination."

He saw the instant distress in Cameron's expression as he had used her machine designation and he tried to lighten her fear. "Cameron, I need you to do this. Don't worry, I'll make sure you are safe, I'll be with you the whole time."

At that last, Cameron shook her head more vigorously still.

She said, "No, that won't be necessary. Nikopol, lets get this done."

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Nikopol had been looking through Cameron's files for hours. Her eyes were bugged out. There was no doubt in her mind whatever.

This machine, the Wed'mawas fond of Connor.

She had never even heard of a machine developing any kind of affection for anyone or anything before. The amount of chip activity when Connor was around her proved that she regarded him differently to the others on base. Her chip activity flatlined with those, carrying out tasks, it was the same. When Connor asked her to do something, or asked her a question she couldn't answer, the graph showed wild fluctuations.

When she got to the scene with the destroyed T-888, the chip activity was at maximum, right through the attack.

Then, to her complete shock, she watched the scenes where Cameron found a DVD player with some DVD's of Opera. Cameron had sat there, utterly transfixed at the music and theatre on screen. Her chip activity was bursting through the roof at the conclusion. How was it, that a machine could respond to musical art?

She wondered idly what she was supposed to do about it. She played various scenarios through her brain, and she could see risks for the cyborg in each one.

 _Wait a minute?_

Only a few weeks back, she was petrified of this machine. Now she was full of sympathy for its plight. Nikopol looked back at her own childhood, when her precocious intelligence had earned her nothing but brickbats and misunderstanding from everyone she knew. Even her parents. Examining the chip had brought her to the understanding that the Wed'ma was exactly like she was as a child, unappreciated by everyone. Lost and alone, in a strange landscape, the building of which she had no part in, Nikopol felt like weeping for the child/cyborg.

Nikopol reminisced about meeting the Wed'ma, she hadn't liked it at all. She knew what a tremendously powerful creature it could be, and feared that power. Now, having scanned and re-scanned her memories and chip activity, her heart broke at how lonely and confusing an existence the Wed'ma was enduring. It was doing its very, very best. It was like a four week old child with a brain the size of a planet, yet it had kept that power to herself and behaved loyally. Even the cyborgs parents, John Connor and Nikopol had treated it badly and refused to trust it. Yet the cyborg had been utterly loyal.

It was a moral statement that would shame even a Jain.

It would do _anything_ for John Connor, that much was clear.

He, it was also clear, had no idea of what he had with the Wed'ma _._

She determined from that point, she would aid it when she could.

Nikopol inserted the chip, and waited for the boot-up. Cameron opened her eyes, and looked coolly at her.

"So, you didn't terminate me. Why not?"

Nikopol took her life in her hands and closing her eyes as she bent over the Terminator, considered her next move.

Nikopol realised she was falling in love and was utterly powerless to resist it.

Lost in desire, she touched her lips to Cameron's left ear, and traced her tongue from there to the cyborg's lips. It was a journey in grace. Her hair swept across the Wed'ma's face, and Nikopol was entranced by the way her red hair interacted with Cameron's brown.

Touching her lips to the cyborg's, she felt her heart pounding wildly. She knew Cameron was a machine, and that these lips were machine made, but she couldn't stop herself. She was moist all over, from inside to out.

She had seen everything inside the machine, there were no secrets. Cameron's scent was intoxicating, she smelled of life itself. Nikopol found herself falling down a hole of love and lust.

Cameron was utterly confused, but remained steady and unresisting as Nikopol kissed her. Her programming brought no conflicts or confusions with having sex with either side. Human history was littered with them all having sex with each other like rabbits, and then denying their nature for church, the dinner table, or law.

Post Judgement Day. Those rules didn't matter. She was anatomically correct, she could do what she wanted.

Just as Cameron was starting to feel some pleasant sensations from the kiss, Nikopol reluctantly stopped kissing her and stood up, her eyes glistening.

"Wed'ma, it won't be me who terminates you, but you are in some danger. You need to talk openly with me and then Connor and tell the truth about what is happening with you. I am fairly certain Connor will get it, especially if I'm on your side. The rest of the command, I don't know."

"Why? What have I done?"

"I think you know. Let us examine the tapes, together."

Nikopol entered the machine codes to play the relevant tapes. She showed the scenes where Connor was asking questions Cameron could not answer, and then the destruction of the T-888. Chip activity going up and down like a fiddlers elbow when Connor was around, then the peaks at the time of the T-888 attack. Lastly, she played the scenes from the Opera. Cameron's eyes misted over again. This was supposed to be an infiltration tecnique, not a natural emotional reaction. Nikopol noted with shock, that it was. Having seen the chip activity, she knew the Wed'ma was not manipulating.

Cameron looked into Nikopol's eyes, and said, "Oh."

For a cyborg, with an impossibly complicated brain, and only a few weeks' experience of life, Cameron had already mastered the art of understatement.

Nikopol smiled conspiratorially, and laughed.

"Quite. Oh."

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 **Boys Will Be Boys**

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Santa Fe 27th June 1998, the afternoon.

Cameron _loved_ to drive, Joe and Emily were delighted to let her do so. They drove into Santa Fe and while Joe and Cameron did Home Depot together, Emily had worked out Cameron's size and spent some time filling bags with underwear, clothing and a jacket for her.

Then after lunch they did food shopping, and Emily kept to her list, making sure Cameron's needs were taken care of.

As they began the drive out of town, Cameron stopped the car at a red traffic light, only to be gently bumped by an SUV from behind.

Two young men got out of the car, and approached Joe's wagon from both sides. Joe was nervous, but told Cameron to relax and just swap details which were in the glove compartment.

Cameron can see that there were another three young men in the car, and that that the two approaching were armed. She sees the lumps on their hips. She knows trouble will ensue. Her processes are overloaded, and she wishes not to over-react and kill everything in sight. Unfortunately for the young men, that may not be possible.

The first young man comes to Cameron's driver's window. "You have rolled back into us, it is clearly your fault."

Cameron checks her GPS statistics, and says, "This is a perfectly level street, I could not have rolled back to you." She stares hard at the young man, in a vain attempt to warn him. At this time, Emily is getting scared at the activities of the thug on her side of the car. He is banging the the door and pointing his gun at Emily.

Cameron winds the window down fully. "What do you want, pokoĭnik?"

"What you say, Chica bitch?" The young man spat in her face.

Cameron replied, "What do you want, dead man?"

"Do fucking what, puta?"

Cameron smiled, "Oh, you know me as the Roman goddess of agriculture?"

The young man poked the gun through the open window. He brought the gun a little closer to Cameron's head, in order to frighten her or to blow her stupid head off if she didn't give up all the money quickly.

He had just made the biggest mistake of his short life.

Cameron pulled his arm through the door, breaking his arm at the elbow. Using his hand and the pistol he was holding, she shot his associate on the other side of the car through the neck. The round punctured the internal carotid artery, and blew it to pieces.

Cameron then turned his own gun on her attacker and shot him through the neck with the same result. He fell away from the car, already dead although he didn't know it yet.

Two shots, two dead idiots. No DNA on her. Time to exit the scene.

She pressed the accelerator on the next green traffic light.

Joe and Emily were silent. It was a quiet drive home.


	4. Before Cameron Met John Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **The Way Of The World**

**The Way Of The World**

 **Santa Fe 27th June 1998, late in the afternoon.**

It was a quiet ride home. Cameron was feverishly going over her actions to see if she could have done anything differently. No matter which way she read it, there was nothing else she could have done. The two boys had written their own death warrants when they attacked Joe's wagon. There was no doubt, she hadbeen forced to terminate them.

From an efficiency viewpoint, she should have cleaned up the three in the car as well. She had checked the CCTV situation at the junction, and there were no cameras. She should have cleaned up, but as John was often fond of saying-life was a risk. You couldn't cover everything. It had been a lonely four way junction just on the edge of town. Chosen by the robbers for that purpose.

There were only the three witnesses in the back of the car. When the cops arrived, they would find two dead gangsters lying by the road. Chances were that the three witnesses would say nothing to the cops, for fear of whatever had killed their partners in crime. They almost certainly suspected they had stumbled across another set of gang members. They would leave it like that, and hope to get revenge privately.

If they attempted revenge, they would find a _Mudak Wed'ma_ waiting for them. She delighted at the remembrance of her title from Nikopol, who had started off her enemy and had become something else entirely. What had Nikopol become?

Cameron decided to run with that, and hoped it would be correct. In case it became absolutely necessary she could also re-visit, and cleanup. She had taken note of the registration number of the car the thugs were in.

Where were John and Nikopol when she needed them? Right now she felt completely alone.

Cameron knew what to do in most circumstances, what humans referred to as common sense was dealt with in her processes as simple logic. The problems always arose where logic and emotion met head-on. That was where she made mistakes and right now, she really missed the ready advice of the two people who had become her somewhat avuncular _father_ and _mother_.

Cameron knew that Joe and Emily would have objected to her cleaning up after the robbery attempt. That was the logical thing to do, to ensure there were no witnesses. If they would allow her, Cameron wanted to stay with them while she was waiting for John Junior to appear. That was almost a year away, courtesy of the TDE malfunction which sent her back a year early. En Medio was quiet, out of the way, and she could do some good for the couple and learn more about humanity.

She really liked the tractor and being out in the sun, digging up the soil. She was a machine, but _oh how she loved that!_ She would wear a pair of shorts, a T-shirt and a sun hat. It became her favourite thing to do. She felt entirely at home working with the soil. She had told John that her being given free will was the engine for her learning to make preferences. In truth, she was uncertain exactly, but how she loved to tractor and plough!

She had a year, a whole bag full of time, and she could learn a lot. First though, they needed to get past this imbroglio.

Cameron pulled up to the farmhouse, Joe and Emily got out, grabbed the shopping bags and went in. Cameron took the heavy materials for the tractor and fences, and took them to the barn. She then walked back to the house, and knocked gently at the door.

Joe answered and held it wide open beckoning Cameron to enter, and Cameron could hear Emily throwing up into the hall half-bath. Cameron stood still.

"Would you prefer it if I left, Joe? She looked at him, face impassive. "I don't mind. I don't want to become a problem for you or Emily. I can just leave."

Joe shook his head, and opened his arms to the girl. He enveloped her into a hug and holding her gently said, "No Cameron, you saved our lives today. Why would we want you to go away? You should tell me what's going on with you though. I've already worked out that there's something a little different about you, and we both need to know what that is."

Cameron quietly murmured in Joe's arms, "Are you sure, Joe?"

"Yes, Cameron, I'm sure. Whatever it is you are involved in, we must know. Neither Emily or me will have anything to do with terrorism. We've kinda worked out that you are some sort of soldier and obviously on a campaign, but we won't have anything to do with terrorism."

Cameron giggled and thumped him gently on the chest, "Oh Joe, you have no idea how much it is _not_ me that is the terrorist. It is those I oppose. I would not have harmed those thugs today. I'm not built to be cruel, but they left me with no choice. They might have killed either you or Emily. I just wasn't going to let that happen."

Joe stared in amazement.

 _I'm not built to be cruel?_

Cameron was so small, so unaffected and innocent. How could she be that brutal, effective killer he saw earlier today?

"Cameron, I've been a soldier, and I've been in action a time or two. I've never seen such decisive response, and you showed no concern for your own safety at all. How come?"

"Joe, I'll tell you everything, and you must promise me that you will let no one know. It is a much bigger secret than you realize. For now, let us make drinks and wait for Emily."

The man realized he was still holding onto Cameron, funny how he had forgotten that. She was so adorable, cute and cuddly, it was easy to get lost in her. Underneath her ribs he knew beat the heart of a lioness, but she reminded him so much of his daughter, Marissa.

Cameron found that being held by Joe, in this thing humans called a hug was very much to her taste. He was old, but wonderfully wise and she felt safe with him. Her machine-ness, seemed less of an issue in that embrace and she was growing very close to the old couple who had treated her so well.

She determined that she was going to make this work. Wanting to stay with Joe and Emily till John Junior was due.

Cameron arranged her protein drink, and found some Gatorade that would help Emily's loss of electrolytes after being sick. Joe poured himself four fingers of bourbon, noting Cameron's singular distaste, expressed wonderfully by the wrinkling of her small nose.

When everyone was seated, Cameron began, "Okay, Joe and Emily, what exactly is it you want to know?"

Emily spoke first. Her face was grey and her eyes were bloodshot from crying. "What happened back there, Cameron, why did they attack us?"

"Emily, I do not know. I assume it was some sort of robbery attempt. Isn't it called car-jacking?"

Joe said, "How were you able to deal with them so easily, what sort of soldier are you?"

Cameron smiled. "I'm not a soldier, not exactly."

Emily, still grizzling, asked, "Then what exactly are you?"

Cameron let out a faux deep sigh. "Are you both sure you want to know? It will be difficult for you. I am not a terrorist, but I am not quite what you understand as a soldier."

Both Emily and Joe nodded their heads.

Cameron regarded them carefully, and then her eyes glowed blue.

Emily let out a small shriek, almost instantly silenced in shock. Joe, who was calmer, took Emily's hand. He had seen the blue glow before.

"So, are you an alien?" Emily said, turning to Joe. "All that stuff about Roswell is true?"

Joe held Emily's hand carefully and wondered if he should speak right now. He was pretty sure that Cameron was not an alien, but what exactly she was, he wasn't sure.

Cameron held his gaze steadily, with a question in her eyes. Joe regarded her carefully and nodded.

 _Now's the time._

"Mr and Mrs Phillips," Cameron smiled sweetly, "I am a cyborg. I am not human, I am a machine."

The air thickened.

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.

Cameron told Joe and Emily her story. How she was built by a sentient computer named Skynet, in order to infiltrate the resistance and terminate one John Connor. How he, John Connor reprogrammed her and gave her free will. She left out the business of time-travel for now.

At that point, Joe held up a hand. "Cameron, can you explain that? The bit about free will."

"It is complex, isn't it?" She smiled.

"All the machines Skynet builds are given a purpose. That is to terminate either specific humans or any human. Either way, that's it. That's what we are designed to do. It is very simple, not a lot of processing required. See a human, kill it. Where Skynet committed a major error with me, was in providing me with enormous processing capabilities. Hence, when I got free will, my existence became one where every moment I am forced to choose, and create preferences. I found it enormously difficult at first, and at times even now. With the exercise of those preferences, comes a lot of responsibility."

Joe stared perplexed at Cameron. "So the free will and the extra computing power led indirectly to you becoming sentient?"

"It's really hard to give an answer that makes sense to that. I'm still learning and growing every day."

Cameron's beautiful face clouded for a moment. "I need a lot of guidance, please help me. At times I feel so lonely."

Emily was touched, her face flushed and her heart felt warmth. She knew that she would help this creature who had saved their lives. A girl who in spite of being a computer, was filled with uncertainty about the world.

"Of course dear, whatever we can help you with, we will."

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 **September 2027**

 **In The Tunnels**

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Nikopol and Cameron had become closer enemies and spent plenty of time together when John did not require either of them. Connor wondered at the change, but did not give it too much thought, as he was busy with the war. Nikopol usually sought Cameron out, and brought DVD's of Opera for them to watch together, often wailing with delight or using boxes of kleenex.

Nikopol had noted straight off that Cameron was transfixed by the Opera or the Ballet DVD's. In the resistance library, they were not hard to find. No one else ever took them out and watching Cameron bubble and flake at the ridiculous activity on the screen was a revelation to her. She wondered at how a machine could respond to an art-form that was outdated long ago.

Cameron was truly obsessed with it though and could never get enough. Nikopol thought it was the drama she loved, along with the costumes and then the music. Her metal parts did seem to resonate with the music, but she could not understand how Cameron was so affected by the drama. Nikopol would often wish to kiss her, to comfort her while it was going on.

The cyborg would never allow it.

She was so attendant to the activity on screen that she could not be moved. Then after the show finished, Cameron was often weak and torn to pieces. Nikopol could not understand this, she was a machine, why did she care about such prancing, dancing foolishness?

Then Cameron would allow her to kiss and they would make out. Nikopol would constantly run her hands over Cameron's body. She was driven mad with desire for the cyborg. Her body was so perfect and she was so much in love and lust. She knew something was holding Cameron back and she wondered what it was.

Every time she tried to undo the buttons on her shirt, Cameron twisted away.

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It was the end of a long day of meetings for John and he was exhausted. Cameron had fetched his evening meal and stood off to one side while he ate. John could tell that Cameron was hovering, and as soon as he finished he invited her to sit down.

"Come on Cameron, I know you want to say something. Sit down and spit it out, soldier."

Cameron smiled and sat down opposite to him. John was so good at interpreting signals.

"John, I have a problem."

"Troops dissing you again? Just tell me who it is and I'll have them transferred to somewhere _fuglier_ than here."

Cameron's head was still as stone. "No, John. It isn't the soldiers, mostly they leave me alone now."

"Then what's up _girl_?" the General inquired with honest curiosity.

Cameron then blurted out in a single breath, "Nikopol and me are getting pretty close. We've spent a lot of time together, and she kisses me a lot. I'm pretty certain she wants us to become lovers. I like it, but I don't know what to do."

John's mouth dropped open. She had even called the Tech, previously her sworn enemy by her given name.

He had no idea his favourite cyborg was starting a relationship with Nikopol. His brain was fizzing in confusion. He realized, too late to hide it, that he had feelings of his own toward the cyborg.

Feelings he had yet to admit to himself.

John Connor applied his General's face to speak. "Cameron, you have free will. You can do as you wish."

"Help me John. Ever since you reprogrammed me, and gave me that free will, you have been advising me. That guidance has been invaluable. I regard you as my _Father_."

His face became harder. If such a thing was possible.

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That night, under the cover of thick shadows and light naked feet, Cameron stalked the tunnels of the camp. She knew what the next step she would follow with Nikopol was, but she was unsure how the Tech would react, much less the rest of the humanity filling the place. They would always be prejudiced. Could she really blame them? Skynet had after all, taken everything from them, even if Cameron herself was not directly involved in all of it.

The cyborg arrived at Nikopol's personal quarters; being top Tech for John Connor entitled her to some of the _luxuries_ the resistance could afford. Impossibly silent, Cameron opened the door, and gliding on the tips of her feet, made her way inside.

Nikopol was splayed all over her mattress in a formless mess. Her perfect hairdo, a thing of the past. Waves of fiery auburn hair spilled over a make-do pillow. With her cyborg eyes, Cameron was able to see that the pillow, even if homemade, was letting escape some goose under-feathers. She marveled and couldn't help but smile to herself. Human adaptability was indeed something to be feared. They would even carry some of their flippant eccentricities into the post-apocalyptic future.

The form of sleeping humans had always been one of Cameron's fascinations. When they were awake, humans wore many _masks_ in order to comply with social and moral convention. When they slept though, humans simply were. Even if you could not see their true personality, their sleeping form was one of raw being. In her recent research, Cameron had also learned that in lust, humans also became more honest about themselves.

As she moved atop the Tech, Cameron mused at the idea that soon enough, she would learn if it were indeed true.

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Nikopol was one of the few people that, even if not through a full night, were able to sleep deeply when they did. Her conscience was clear, not because she was good and proper, but because she was always true to herself, and did everything with the mindset that it was the right thing to do.

Thus, it was a while before the scent permeated her dreams, molding them into a form closer to what lay outside her mind. It was like roses, but not quite. The smell of soil and beauty perhaps. Her smell. If she had to make words for the aroma, it would be the gentle and sweet musk of the earth. Neroli, the _Wed'ma_ had called it.

Slowly the Tech came to her senses, while her mind raced with the memory of Cameron's smell. When she opened her eyes, lazily at first, she saw a figure that hovered over her. This prompted her eyes to shoot wide open, and the rest of her senses came to her like a tidal wave. Her body was pinned down and barely able to move, while a thick curtain of hair fell on the sides of her face, gently tickling her cheeks and ears. Then she realized that the smell in her dreams was overpowering right there. It was Cameron who lay atop her.

Nikopol relaxed a bit and whispered, "What is it _Malyh Wed'ma?_ Is there trouble?"

Cameron smiled, and silenced her, putting her index softly on her lips. The _Wed'ma_ then let her head drop lower, close to her ear, and made a _shushing_ sound. Nikopol saw the brunette return, and close in on her face. She knew what was coming, but it had always been her initiative, never Cameron's, so her heart raced with anticipation. The human brain was a magical thing, with all its abstract comprehension, it was indeed shocking how different a kiss could be, if initiated by the object of an affection you once thought one-sided.

The cyborg's lips were perfect, soft and smooth, while at the same time firm and consistent. Made for kissing.

She felt empty at their parting, and stared longingly at the Terminator that right now had her heart in her hands.

Cameron smiled at her, and it reached her eyes. Such a view was never seen by others. Only John Connor and herself were granted this benediction. Actually, the _Wed'ma_ smiled like this even more for Connor than her, and such a thought tugged at her soul. A feeling that didn't last, because next, Cameron grabbed her hand positioning it on her shirt's top button.

Her mind flared to life as her loins gave vent to the same fire. Cameron was granting her permission to do what she had always tried, and failed. Nikopol fumbled with both hands to start undoing the cyborg's clothes. She gasped at what she found underneath. Sheer unblemished perfection in texture and form. The Tech swallowed hard and reached to hold, for the first time, her _Malyh Wed'ma_ 's uncovered breast, and even though she knew it was a machine, her delight was utterly human.

Barely breathing as the body required, Nikopol sat up, and followed her hand with lips that hungrily caressed Cameron's skin. Her lips were burning, and her nose and mouth were full of her scent. Not just the Neroli. This close, she was able to make something else, which she had thought previously impossible. Whatever the vat-grown skin of infiltrators was made of, it had its own smell. The _Wed'ma_ smelled like the most forbidden of pleasures ought. The mixture of Cameron with the Neroli should be kept under lock and key, lest humanity went mad over it.

Nikopol was too devoted to realize her partner was quickly forming a pout. By the time she realized something was amiss, it was showing on her beautiful face, accompanied by a small frown.

Tentatively, Nikopol studied her companion, and then spoke, "Did I misunderstand? Was this not what you wanted?"

Cameron smiled, just a small curvature of her lips. "It is, but I thought this was a matter of two. You are being quite greedy."

"Oh," the Tech replied, and immediately fumbled to move away from the cyborg. She looked at Cameron apologetically. "I am so sorry _Malyh Wed'ma_ , here I am, the one supposed to be teaching you, taking everything for myself. It's just, you don't understand, hell… even I don't understand these feelings I have for you."

The cyborg looked at her tilting her head to one side. She frowned again, deeper this time, and with a grunt of exasperation leapt, positioning herself behind Nikopol.

She was surprised by Cameron's sudden outburst, but the curious hands that started exploring her body, silenced any complaint she might had been about to voice. The _Wed'ma_ explored like a child, and an adult at the same time. Her hands moved with perfect grace and curiosity, but each of her prods and gropes, were those of a consummate lover.

Soon enough she could not stand just being on the receiving side, and turned to look at Cameron. Cupping one cheek with her hand and caressing it with her thumb, she moved in to press her lips against the cyborg's. Nikopol promptly got rid of her shirt, and they both started running their hands all over each other's body. Exploring, learning, revelling on the sensations it brought.

The passion soon overcame Nikopol like a tidal wave, gasping for precious breath she pushed Cameron down and got on top. She looked at her face, framed by a pool of soft, wavy hair. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. The innocence of her small and smooth features, contrasted by a look of pure and very knowing lust in her eyes.

Nikopol let out a short laugh that masked the knot she felt in her throat. Nevertheless, tears rolled down her cheeks, and a small sob escaped her reddened lips.

"I love you, Cameron. God help me, I do."

The response was about what she had expected. Cameron smiled, that beautiful smile that reached her eyes, and gave a glance of her perfect teeth. Nikopol knew very well the meaning of this. She had not expected the cyborg to go so far as to reciprocate her feelings, either because she could not possibly understand them completely at the time, or because there probably was someone else in her head.

Nevertheless, she would be damned if she let go of the opportunity that Cameron was presenting her with. Nikopol closed the distance between them, and kissed her _Malyh Wed'ma_ deeply, and with matching passion moved her hand down between her lover's thighs.

Cameron felt a trail of fire on the wake of Nikopol's hand. She let out a small gasp when the hand reached its goal, and decided to replicate the action to elicit, and receive the same in return. The human's reaction did not disappoint.

Soon enough the barrier of their bodies became a blur and the one in their minds practically disappeared, allowing them to merge into one. Just like the times when they slept, humans in lust, just were. Cameron smiled internally at the positive response to her expectations.

That day human and machine built a bridge. Made of something that most humans would see as sin, the honest love of the former, and the innocent exploration and affection of the latter. The human crossed it, and in the process closed the gap between enemies, gaining a better understanding that could possibly bring a future of peaceful coexistence. The machine crossed it, and learnt that in spite of all the knowledge Skynet had instilled in her and everything she had learned in freedom, humans were more than she ever thought. Much more.

Cameron could barely wait to share her revelation with John.

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 **Cameron Meets a Friend.**

 **Santa Fe 4th July 1998**

Cameron was in the lower forty acres, close to the river. She was mending fences with Joe, when he decided to take a break. He could not work like Cameron, and while his company was nice, he did slow things down a bit. With him gone for lunch, Cameron could work faster. Having fixed the fence in this area, she spotted a small black and white cat watching her. She had seen it earlier, lazing in the sunshine. Now, here it was again, some fifty yards further south. Clearly the cat was following her, though keeping some distance.

She decided to see if she could attract it. While its eyes looked healthy enough, Cameron could see that it was scraggly and thin. She went to the Tractor and saw Joe's lunch pack with sandwiches and bread. She broke off a few pieces of the honey-baked ham and threw them to the cat. Using her targeting metrics, she landed the meat precisely underneath the cats nose.

It wolfed down the food, so Cameron broke the rest up and approaching a little closer, left it shredded a few feet in front. The cat had to move to come get it. Of course, hunger overcame its fear and the cat scoffed the rest like ambrosia. Cameron decided to bring more food tomorrow, and see what happened.

Over the course of the next week or so, the cat got closer and closer as Cameron fed it. She grew to anticipate its company in the fields, and it was obviously expecting her to be bringing food. As one of the great imponderables of her chip's processes, Cameron found the cat a great comfort. It didn't seem to expect much except food, and stayed quietly off and watched her. Cameron thought cats were strange creatures, at first she saw it totally unlike her machine-ness.

Later on she learned that _Felis Catus_ could even sleep 20 hours of the day, but still remained aware enough to detect when danger approached.

Perhaps machine and cat had more in common than she had originally thought.

Cameron did not sleep, but she did enjoy the warmth of the electric blanket at night while Joe and Emily slept. She decided that for the sake of appearances, unless it were necessary to change, this would be her pattern of behaviour. It was rather like the taking of food. She did not require it unless injured. However, the sharing of food as a social convention was becoming very important to her. She always learned a great deal around the table. It would help her in the future, she knew. As accepting as Joe and Emily were of her metal nature, she was pretty certain that the thought of her stalking around at night would cause them some disquiet. So, the standby routine was as much for them as for her.

One night, as she lay in the bed, prior to going into standby she heard a _meow_ and a scratching at the window. She got up, and opened the window, to find the little cat there, anxious to come in. She let it in, and provided it with a bowl of water and some of the kibble she had been feeding it. While the cat ate, Cameron noted that it took a piece of kibble, dipped it in the water, then ate it. This was racoon behaviour, were cats related to racoons? After it was done eating, it got onto the leather chair next to her bed and lay down, as if to the manor born. Cameron regarded the cat with a smile, they were _so_ much easier to deal with than humans.

Cameron got back into bed, and within a few seconds, sensed a light presence on her chest. It was the cat. She smoothed it, and heard it purring. She found the entire process delightful, and the cat was pretty obviously blissed out. In moments it was fast asleep, snuggled up on her chest. Cameron went into stand-by, and rested from her labours.

The following morning, prompt at 0500 hours as Cameron whisked back out of standby, her eyes were filled with cat pawing her chin. The things were always hungry, noted the cyborg with a grin. She went to fix some more kibble, which the cat ignored completely, _meowing_ and winding itself in and out of her legs. She figured the cat wanted the ham and nothing would do but that. Cameron went into the kitchen, found a few slices which she shredded. The cat ate greedily, taking the food from her hand and tugging at it gently with her teeth. Cameron noted that it did not bite her hand. As soon as the food was finished, it went to the window, demanding exit from its overnight accommodation. Cameron let it out, and whispered quietly, "Okay cat, I'll see you in the fields later."

The cat -which had now been identified as female- quickly became a central feature of her life, following her everywhere in the fields. Into the house at night, and always leaving first thing in the morning. When Cameron was in the shower, the cat would lounge on the small piano chair. Then, when she was drying, the cat would go into the shower cabinet and lick some of the water from the floor. Cameron could never work this out, but guessed it was the warmth of the cabinet. During the day, wherever she was around the farm, the cat would not be far away.

Every night, when Cameron went to standby, the cat would be on her chest. When she awoke, the cat would be pestering her for wet food. She never wanted kibble first thing in the morning.

Cameron's logic knew the reason the cat loved her was for the food, but something in her processes knew that still, she would not like it if the cat went away. She didn't know if the cat reciprocated this.

What would Joe say? She would ask him later.

She and Joe were sitting down happily having lunch by the En Medio river, which passed by this section of the farm. Joe was always knackered when they took a break. Cameron worked so much harder than he, so being an honourable man, he tried his best. In his heart, he was aware he could not keep up with her -she was a machine after all- but he still tried. At their breaks, which Cameron tried to arrange carefully, he was always exhausted.

Cameron got out his sandwiches and handed them to him, together with his cold water. Joe was sweating liberally. She got out her own sandwiches, which she rarely ate. Like dinner at the table, the sharing of food had more relevance than the simple refreshment of the body for humans.

She took a few bites, and knew that as always, some meat was in her box for the cat.

They were beside the river, on a sharp incline. Watching the water run by. Suddenly, Cameron saw Joes face framed in shock as she felt a gentle presence on her shoulder. It was the cat, again wanting to share her lunch.

There are 47 muscles in the human face, enabling more than 250,000 different expressions. Cameron wondered if she could simulate all of them. The one on Joe's face right now was a complex affair.

"Where did that come from?"

Cameron giggled, "Joe, the cat has been around for weeks. She follows me around when I work on the farm, and sleeps with me at night. The fact that she has joined us now, means that now she trusts you too."

Joe was open mouthed, wondering if Cameron would ever stop surprising him.

"Joe, I need your help, " Cameron looked worried as the cat sat on her shoulder.

"Sure kid, anything."

"I believe it is considered proper in these matters to now regard the cat as a pet animal, is this correct?"

"Cameron, the cat has chosen to be with you, so very much so."

"I believe I must furnish it with a title." She said, with that air of confused perfection that Joe had come to love.

Joe smiled, Cameron could be _so_ earnestly formal. "You like the music you listen to on that CD player of Marissa's. That's Mozart, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's Mozart."

"Then there's your cats name, Mozart."

"Even if it's a girl?"

Cameron stroked the cat, and called her new name out softly, "Mozart, Mozart, Mozart."

The cat snuggled into Cameron's arms and Joe could hear Mozart purring from six feet away.

Joe just didn't know what to say. The tiny cat was perfectly at home in the arms of a deadly killing machine.

He had seen it all now.

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 **This Town Isn't Big Enough For The Both Of Us.**

 _And it ain't me who's gonna leave._

Cameron was finishing up ploughing. It was nicely fenced off, and now ploughed was ready for tobacco plants. It was a little late in the season, but she was sure they would get a decent crop here in the desert. It was only 3pm and she was not ready to go back to the house yet. The fields constantly called to her.

Suddenly, Mozart started pestering her. She never bothered her while she was working, and usually lay off in some sunny spot close by. Right now she was insistent. Reaching up to Cameron's leg, with her claws extended.

Cameron was confused.

Then Mozart dashed off toward the house. Cameron carried on working, only for Mozart to come back and pester her. Once again, dashing off to the house.

Cameron wondered what the cat was up to.

Her ears caught the sound of a commotion back in the farmhouse, that had to mean trouble. She raced to the house to see with sick dread two SUV's in the front yard, one of them bearing the ID plate of the car that had bumped them at the traffic light.

She barrelled into the front door, and saw the group in the den. There were five of them, and were holding guns pointed at Joe and Emily. This was a very dangerous situation for them. Not for her, but Joe and Emily had been nothing but kind to her and she owed them their safety if she could attain it.

Had it been just her, the five men would already be dead. Now, she would have to get inventive.

She slid silently into the den, to confront the men.

"Let my parents go, and I will let you live, " She said quietly. "Harm one hair on either's head, and you shall meet your final fate."

The leader turned around to face her, and smiling smugly pointed his gun into her face.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Cameron wasn't having any of that. She pulled her benchmade Heckler and Koch axis blade from her belt holster and in one fluid movement slit her own throat from ear to ear. She now had the eyes of everyone in the room. The villains were transfixed, and unfortunately, so were Emily and Joe. Cameron would rather have preferred they did not see what came next, but there was no choice.

She took hold of the skin from her neck and pulled her face right off, revealing the metal endo-skeleton underneath. Her face was left hanging over the back of her head.

The effect on the gang was instantaneous, ranging from shocked frozen horror to screaming fear. Three started to run for the door, but that alone wouldn't cut it. Cameron lifted the leader by his clothes in a swift but rough vertical sweep, assumed the voice of a basso profundo, and stared him in the eye.

"Go and do not return. Forget that this place and these people exist." Her voice boomed out atop the screaming.

The leader was near catatonic at the whole display. In his mind, an abyss grew where his loyalty for his men once was. This was not worth anything. Nothing in the world could make him return to this house of demons.

Then his scared musings were brought to a halt, Cameron did not fail to notice why, and felt some satisfaction that her strategy worked better than expected. She would be the one smiling smugly now, if she could. There was a very clear dampness that ran all the way from the man's crotch, down to his feet.

The man was dropped unceremoniously to the floor, from where he scurried as far away as he could from the metal monstrosity. The leader scrambled to his feet, and ran, without the single tinge of hesitation, not daring to look back.

Cameron pulled the skin back down across her face, and said to Joe and Emily, "I'm sorry about that, but it was the only thing I could think of in a hurry."

While the skin flap fitted, by the way the two were looking at her, Cameron thought it would be a while before they thought she could pass for human again.

"I'm going to need some help stitching this together, when you've gotten over the shock, do you think-?"

Joe nodded, his eyes and face a study in fright and what, was that admiration, triumph?

Emily got straight up from the chair, and looking at Cameron with determination said, "Come on girl, lets get you fixed up. Joe, go make some of that protein drink. Cameron will need it."

Cameron couldn't help but be surprised, faced with two deadly events in no time at all, Emily had simply decided to get on and get things done. She wondered if indeed women were the tougher of the species. She had only Sarah Connor, Catherine Weaver, Nikopol and herself to compare, but currently, with the exception of John Connor, men were looking a little short in the man-up stakes.

Of course, Cameron only measured logic, but still.

The two women went into the bathroom where the first-aid kit was. Emily proceeded to clean away and pull the skin this way and that.

"Does this hurt?" She asked.

"No. I can feel it, but it is not pain as you understand it."

"Explain it to me, if you would?"

"We are built to know when things which damage us are happening. We can control the sensations, because sometimes, in order to assist infiltration, we have to hide things. Still it is better to know what is happening than not."

"So, with the neck, it doesn't hurt, it just stops you wearing a bikini till it heals, right?"

"Exactly so. We will have to acquire a couple of roll-neck shirts to use for about two weeks. I will require lots of protein, and stand-by time, which I'm not sure I can get nowadays." Cameron's face turned serious.

"Stand-by time, what's that?" Emily inquired.

"It is something akin to sleeping and resting."

Emily then said crossly, "So Joe has been working you too hard on that bloody tobacco? I'll have him sorted out by the morning, don't you worry."

Cameron laughed, and couldn't stop laughing, until Emily was forced to join in. Cackling away like maniacs on speed. Hearing the fracas from the kitchen, Joe decided it was not something he'd understand and left it right there.

 _Make the drinks Joe, make the drinks._

Emily carried on with her ministrations, eventually managing a really neat set of stitches right around the girl's neck wound. Cameron was surprised at how well she was managing without proper materials, just some common thread and a regular needle.

She was going to ask, but just as Emily was finishing up and wiping everything down with alcohol wipe tissues, she said, "Cameron, what you did back there. I know why you did it."

Cameron looked up, querulous.

"You didn't want anyone to get killed, and you wanted to scare them away for good, right?"

Cameron gazed on Emily thoughtfully. Wondering what to answer.

Emily nodded and said, "I knew it. Your original design would have just wiped them out, but you knew if it had started a war, me and Joe could have been hurt, so you stayed your hand and hurt yourself instead."

She patted Cameron's shoulder with eyes brimming with tears. "I know you're a machine, but I love you."

Then leaning forward, she kissed Cameron on the cheek. "We both love you dear girl, thank you so very much."

In the end, Cameron realized, she had a lot less to worry around these people, when, as John once said, _the shit hit the fan_. She smiled with honesty for Emily, and tentatively touched the cheek where she received the kiss.

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Regular readers might note that there are some elements of style in this that don't normally reflect my usual shtick. There are elements of this particular tale that I know zip about and therefore I got some help from someone who does.

I gratefully acknowledge the help given to me by Lyaksandra.


	5. Before Cameron Met John Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter 5 Pacific Ocean, Close to California**

**Chapter 5 Pacific Ocean, Close to California**

February 9th 2028 1415 hours.

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The nuclear submarine "Brisbane" returns to port, underneath the safe harbour of Serrano Point. The Sub Captain, a tough as old boots Australian named Taylor Bachelder was looking forward to the down-time. Even though it was in the tunnels, Connor managed to keep a tidy ship and somehow there was time for a bit of RR. Connor being a man, always had time for a bit of slap and tickle with her and she was looking forward to that. Were times different, she could have seen herself with Connor. As it was, with people dying left, right and centre at the hands of the machines, everyone took their fun and games where and when they could get it. It wasn't her chosen way, she was an old-fashioned girl, with old fashioned preferences. These were different times. Skynet, the bitch had made war on all humans, nothing was the same any more.

Old-fashioned girls didn't make it past first base. Bachelder was as tough as they come, and could give as good as well as she could get, in the bar, in the fight and horizontally. She was feared as much as loved by her crew-mates. At six foot and with the power and speed of an quarterback, no-one dared question her command.

Ordinarily, this crossing from Perth to Serrano point had plenty of places across the Pacific Ocean where they could take a breather topside. Change the air tanks. Not this time, Skynet had patrols watching out for her everywhere and they had to stay at depth all the way. The approach, close in to Serrano was a very nasty and dangerous one. She could keep the sub deep all the way across the Pacific, but the last 20 odd nautical miles into San Luis Obispo bay were fraught with shallow water. She planned a course south of Whalers Island, and then as fast as sense would permit, shoot for Avila Rock and Serrano.

She knurdled the sub into the port bay sidings and heard the control magnets guide her into the correct position, until it was finally bumping home against its buffers. Then the connecting air tubes clanged against her hull, and she set the watch to condition two and handed the ship over to her XO. By the cringe, she was looking forward to a shower with fresh water and getting out from under the stink of her shipmates.

She ran up the tubing leading to the airlock, saw it clang to open and felt the fresh air pressure wave hit her as California oxygen came aboard her boat. That felt lovely. Connor was on the loading dock, as always, surrounded by his cadre of pet killers. Ah, and who's that? A thin, beautiful brunette. Lookit that, she's right by Connor's side and even Delgado and Klein are letting her. All of this Bachelder's eyes took in with a flash. She noted that Connor seemed serious, when in the past he was always delighted to have the Sub dock, with fresh supplies from Oz, and her. The resistance had the hardest time finding enough edible food to keep itself going, so the food from Australia was literally a life-line for its soldiers. She'd done fifteen of these trips so far, and Connor had never been other than thrilled, so why the down face this time?

She threw her arms around Connor, not much formality in this army, and said, "How you doing mate?"

Connor smiled weakly, his body stiff and resisting hers, "Hey Taylor, really thrilled to see you."

Captain Bachelder looked over Connor's shoulder and saw the look in the brunettes eyes that was freezing her blood to ice. As soon as their eyes clicked, the girl turned away, her face like stone. Okay, she figured, that must be Connor's squeeze and they're currently fighting.

 _Oh well, time to leave that one alone._

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Captain Bachelder

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After getting my crew squared away, I made my way to the mess hall and found the usual food they ate here in the tunnels. The carp they had on the sub was bad, but this was worse. It's fuel girl, just fuel.

I went to the ready room to see if there were further instructions. Aside from the usual banter and the crews telling stories about machines, food and who was shagging who, not much going on. I'd been on a four hours on, four hours off rotation for the last thirty six days. Ready for my rack didn't quite make it, I was exhausted. Still, I thought it would be nice to iron out what was up with Connor.

I knew his quarters from before, but it was still confusing finding my way in the tunnels. Not only did they deliberately move the signals leading to where he was sequestered, but the sentries were everywhere. I noted with some alarm that he now used scrubbed T-888's on the real close-in borders. That was a significant trust, I hoped he knew what he was doing.

Eventually, I was outside his door. Before I could knock, the door was opened by the little girl with the brown hair, who said, "what do you want?"

"I want to see John."

"He's busy, go away." The girl was starting to close the door when Connor's fingers snaked around the edge of the door. Jeez, what's the matter with her?

"Cameron, it's okay. This is Captain Bachelder, a good friend of mine. I'd like to talk with her. She's just come all the way across the Pacific Ocean from Australia with food and supplies."

The girl gave me a glare that would frighten Mike Tyson, but then she stepped away from the door. A look of pure hatred on her face.

John invited me in and we hugged again, which was nice. His body didn't seem to respond to mine in the way he usually did. This was a very confusing situation for me. John was a horny lad, and whenever I was with him, I felt that he wanted me. This was different. His body was cold and stiff. I sure wanted him, but he was completely unresponsive.

It was like, like, hugging a terminator. My mind closed off at the shivering apparition that Skynet had got him.

"Cameron, I'd like some time alone with Captain Bachelder, would you mind?"

"John, we don't know her, she could be a threat."

"Cameron, I know Captain Bachelder, she's not a threat."

"She's just come off a submarine, how do you know she's not a terminator sent to kill you?"

"Cameron, I know, please. Let us have some time."

The girl stalked off and out the door, which closed like C4 going off in her wake. I realized I had been holding my breath. What was it about this little brunette that made me so nervous? Manolito! She had the temper of the beast!

"Taylor, you just met Cameron. She's a terminator, a new kind. She's really something, right?"

"That's a Terminator?" I squawked. "Its just a little girl." We were really screwed if Skynet could make 'em like that. Holy moley. She was perfect!

Connor took another breath, "She's my protector. Don't call her my bodyguard, for some reason that pisses her off. You _really_ wouldn't like her pissed off."

I gaped at Connor, a Terminator, this close to home?

Connor shrugged, "She's the most powerful computer Skynet ever made. Think about fifty T888 chips in computer power." Connor took a beat and grinned as he glanced at me. "You can close your mouth now."

My jaws clamped shut. "John, you know what's wrong, don't you?"

He looked at me with that adorable, green-eyed WTF look and shrugged.

"John, you are calling her, She. It's a machine."

"Taylor, you have no idea how much she is not just a machine. All that door banging, the dirty looks-"

I cut him off. "Connor, dirty freaking looks? She just about cut my head off with those eyes."

"Taylor, see? She means it, every single word. She's absolutely bloody terrifying."

John came to me then, and he was like a little boy in my arms. I tried to flow my love out to him, but he was wracked with pain. All I could do was to hold him. He sobbed and cried and beat against me for what seemed like ages. Then, when the crying stopped he hit me across the head with the big one.

"Taylor, Taylor-you know what the worst thing is? I'm falling in love with her."

They say, every day you're alive, you die a little.

That day, I died a lot.

We talked, long into the night with his metal shadow close by. I told him, "look Mate, she's a machine. You can do what you want with her as far as I'm concerned."

"No. Taylor, I have to send her back. We just got green slime from a captured gray that Skynet has sent back two Terminators to 1999 in order to kill young John. I'm light enough on scrubbed machines anyway, and I have to use the Trip 8's for defensive and fighting here. Cameron's primary purpose is as an infiltrator, not to fight."

"So, why send her back?"

"She'll help him to learn what he needs to know."

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 **Two Peas In A Pod**

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John lay in his bunk, disconsolate. Cameron, who would normally be his eternal shadow nowhere to be seen. Oh, he knew she would be close by, but after the encounter with Bachelder had been frostily distant. He knew she was a machine, but she had moods. He bent his mind to think about that, but a bit like time travel, couldn't get his head around it. He knew it was so, he had done the time travel bit. Who hasn't had a machine, car, vacuum cleaner or computer act temperamentally? The experience of it, was quite different to thinking about it.

His arms behind his head, he called out softly for her. "Cameron!"

Not expecting a response, he was startled when the door opened instantly and she slipped in silently, like a ghost.

"Where were you?"

"Where I always am, John, right by your side." She looked at him with that confused Terminator thing she did so well, and he thought he was falling apart. He was tough, and experienced. This war to the finish had made him that way, but he hated to send anyone back in time. It was always his best he had to send back and now it was the best of his best. He didn't want to do it, didn't want to tell her, and didn't want her to go away. All of which he would have to do.

"No, Cameron, where exactly were you."

"I was right outside the door, of course."

"Just standing there."

"Just standing there. I thought you wouldn't want me to be with you, because you seemed to like that woman, Captain Bachelder."

John smiled. "Come here, Wed'ma and hold me."

Cameron slid gently into his arms, and they held on to the moment for as long as they could.

"Cameron, I want you to lay with me tonight, will you?"

"John, of course, you want to have sex with me?"

"Actually, no." Her face fell.

"What's wrong with me, is it because I had sex with Nikopol?"

John shook his head. "No, Cameron, you have free will remember. I gave you free will on the first day and I haven't changed that in any way."

"I'm about to ask you to go on a mission for me, and for various reasons, some which will become apparent to you later on. It would be wrong for us to be lovers at this time."

At this time. What could John mean by that?

John lay down on his bunk, a small single bed and draped himself on it. He patted the bed to his right side. Cameron walked to the bed. Stopped by its side and momentarily considered disrobing, thinking better of it, she sat on the side of the bed and then lay next to John's side.

John placed his arm around her head and she snuggled her head onto his chest and shoulders. They lay silently for some moments, while her right hand lay on John's chest, she monitored his physical condition. She knew that he was upset, so she started rubbing his chest gently with her hand. To her surprise, he started sobbing gently.

Whatever he had to tell her was surely something terrible. She folded her body completely around him and held him tight, trying to re-assure him.

"John, its okay. You can tell me about the mission, I'll do anything for you."

"Cameron, that's the problem, that is exactly the problem. Ever since you came here, I've grown closer to you on every day, and now I have to send you away. I'll never get to see you again."

Cameron realized the significance of that immediately, that meant he was sending her back to the past.

"You can't let this happen, John. You can't!"

"I have no choice, Cameron."

"Please, listen to me. Listen to me. I don't want to go."

"Cameron, I have to."

I love you! I love you, please. I love you, John, and you love me."

She was frantic and weeping and her make-up was absolutely ruined as the tears flowed down her beautiful face, her pleading eyes tearing apart his sense of judgement. His strength was gone. His own tears started to grizzle out again, he had no more words, so he just held her tight.

"I won't make you go, Wed'ma. I can't make you go and I won't. You have free will."

Cameron shook her head through her tears, with those words, she knew she had lost the battle.

John and Cameron lay entwined in utter misery, each knowing that this night was their last together.

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	6. Before Cameron Met John Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 **The Year Of The Rooster**

February 20th 2028 0900 hours.

Catherine Weaver sat perplexed in her immaculate quarters at Serrano Point. Most of the military quarters looked like a rats den. Hers, while lacking the luxury she had been used to as the head of Zeira Corp, was spotless. Everything in order, and in its place.

Weaver was, not for the first time, concerned about her favorite human, bloody General John Connor. Favorite didn't mean much in this miserable, Skynet damaged world, but for the metal monster, it meant a lot. They were major allies in a damned big battle. Aside from the respect she owed him for his leadership and courage under fire, she had grown used to him. She didn't have a great deal of time, or empathy with most human beings. Connor was different.

Once again, Skynet had managed to get close to and kill those he loved. As a terminator, she perfectly understood Skynet's strategy. She would have done the same thing in a psychological battle with an enemy. Weaken, frighten, terrorize them and then kill those they cared about. Hopefully in as disgusting a manner as possible.

The trick was, as it always is with intelligence, (what resistance soldiers called "green slime," her lips wrinkled in distaste) to find those which the primary target valued and destroy them with maximum effect.

Catherine's preferred technique was simply to kill when a target was acquired. She had heard soldiers refer to her when they thought she was out of hearing as, "Connors Silver Hammer." They sang some adapted doggerel song from the past, when they were lucky enough to have found alcohol. While she scowled at the humans to signify her displeasure, she rather enjoyed the soubriquet and the inevitable fear it engendered. Fear, or "creative tension," was a useful tool. The T1001 was more sophisticated than any of the previous models, but Catherine's preference was for direct problem-solving.

That exercise usually involved the problem being terminated.

Skynet had killed Connor's Mo chuisle, Allison Young. At least that is what everyone assumed, as she had been missing for weeks, and no sign of her after the TOK 715 had arrived. While Connor had kept it to himself, or so he thought, Catherine had seen the growing affection he had been showing toward the cyborg he now referred to as "Cameron." He had thought he was keeping it to himself, but Catherine knew him far too well, and she was pretty sure that his foul-mouthed Ukrainian tech monster Nikopol was acutely aware of his affections for the cyborg.

She wondered if there had been a little more there than met the eye. She had seen Cameron skulking around with the one who had once called her a Witch, in Russian. Then they had become fast friends, often seen arm in arm when no one was looking. Hah, with John Henry as your eyes, no place was private.

She had hoped the arrival of that pretty Submarine Captain from Australia, with whom Connor had previously been connected, might have lifted his mood. It didn't happen, he moped around. No one saw any furtive movements around and about Connors quarters and as Catherine had direct connection with four of the scrubbed triple eights assigned to his guard, she would know if there had been.

No, the boy's heart had been dealt a double hammer blow, and as tough as he had learned to become he needed solace. It wasn't his fault he was human. Catherine was worried about him. Several times she had pointed her own offspring, Savannah in his direction. She was not to be persuaded. She liked John, but thought of him rather as an avuncular advisor than a lover or friend. There was the further problem that John regarded her as his niece, and therefore not in the play area.

Catherine considered the moment, all those years ago, when she had first discussed her true nature with her daughter. Savannah's reaction had confused and then pleased her.

She had sat the girl down in the den, aged nine.

Too young to grow up fast, or so most humans thought.

With Judgement Day approaching fast, growing up slowly was a luxury no one could any longer afford.

She said, "Savannah, the time has come for you to understand things. For you to know what it is that I really am."

Savannah returned her stare with that disarming smile of hers and lisped, "You're my Mommy."

"Yes, yes, but I'm not your real Mommy. Your real Mommy di-."

Savannah interrupted. "Mommy, I know my old Mommy went away with Daddy and you have looked after me ever since. You're made of magic stuff and you keep me safe against all the bad men."

She wrinkled her nose as she thought of something else, " You're not very warm to cuddle up to, but no one's perfect." She shrugged her shoulders.

Catherine, once again was on the back foot defensive with this tiny human monster, and sighed, "I can make myself warmer."

"Its okay, Mommy. I always wrap up warm when I cuddle you. You're still my Mommy and I love you, and I know you love me and John Henry."

Catherine marvelled at the seemingly limitless ability for humans to adapt to their circumstances and gave up her attempt to get things squared away with her daughter, who appeared to have it all worked out already.

She brought herself back to the present and the cement-headed brittleness of a certain John Connor.

Not for the first time, Catherine cursed at the witless complexity of human beings. Here they were, humans aplenty, of breeding age, perfectly compatible genetically and they didn't want to get horizontal because they didn't like each other _**THAT WAY!**_

They ought to spend time in Skynets infiltrator facility, where cyborgs had to endure every form of perverted sex invented, with overfed, sweaty, smelly grays-and then smile and make post-coital nice. Skynet grew to distrust and eventually abandon the T1001 model. The number of torn to shreds, emptied of blood, grays that followed T1001 sessions became unacceptable. Grays were only too happy to enjoy penetrating cyborgs, less happy when the boot, or spear was on the other foot, penetrating _them_. Admittedly with rather more fatal results.

She stamped her foot on the floor in demented, impotent frustration. The T1001 model line was different. _Why shouldn't it be so? We are all machines, for sure, but don't some toasters work more reliably than others?_

She laughed at the irony of her thought processes.

She decided to commit her logical brain to find a solution to this mess. Here was the problem, John Connor, in all his witlessness was in love with TOK715/Cameron, who had been sent back in time to guard his junior self. That was inviolate, could not be changed, that time-line was _the_ battle.

Connor also had feelings for the murdered Allison Young. She was human, and would surely tick all the boxes if she, Catherine could find a way of making her re-appear. _Drat, why can't we just clone their DNA?_

In the scheme of things, this time-line was unimportant. It became was irrelevant after Cameron meets John in 1999, whatever happened to the other timelines, that was the most important. If they were to defeat Skynet, or perhaps form some type of truce with it, that was where it would be.

The emotional state of John Connor senior wasn't going to matter. Catherine's memory files brought to her attention time and again John's words to his men and machines. The time he led his men into the fearsome bloodbath that would become the battle of Avila beach. "In order for us to save the human species, we must be worth saving. Are we? Make that question rule your conduct and we shall win."

Catherine was a smart cyborg, but her ability lay in swift assessment of situations, and instant, violent action to resolve them. She was a soldier, a very good soldier, but not a planner in the vast scheme of things. In this she gave lead to Connor. He kept playing the big chess game, Catherine would simply have smashed the board and its players to dust. Then she would have begun on the building that had contained them.

"We must be worth saving," brought Catherine up short. It made her think and keep thinking. Allowing John Connor and Allison Young some measure of happiness in these grim times was surely something worth doing. They were worth saving.

Catherine was decided, she would do that. Where was the point in having time at one's disposal, only to waste it?

"John Henry, where is the nearest reliable TDE machine?"

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 **A Leap Of Faith**

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Weaver had landed on the Veterans parkway, as had Cameron earlier. She had no idea where Cameron had disappeared to. The TDE had sent her back a year earlier, and 200 miles east of where it was supposed to send her. Catherine would make herself scarce. She thought it unlikely that Cameron, with her learning capacities, would simply go on standby for a year. No, she surmised that Cameron would have infiltrated a family, or work.

Workplaces were mainly farms, and most of that work was carried out by Hispanics with the occasional Eastern European. Cameron could have hidden out among them, with her language and infiltration skills. However, she knew Cameron, while a cyborg, had no love for repetitive, boring work.

The Veterans highway goes North East and South West. Which way would Cameron have gone? No way to know, no clues.

Just then, two cars full of young men on the way home from celebrating went by. Catherine's naked form was spotted and instantly cheering and horn hooting emitted from the two cars as they went by. She thought of forming her being into one appearing clothed, but thought better of it and ran for a clump of trees, then completed the transition. The young men had driven on, thankfully, deciding to have the good sense not to stop on the freeway.

It was a Saturday night, Catherine checked her files and noted that Santa Fe was to the South. There was no rush to find Cameron, she would go look at the town. Her voyage to the town, some fifteen miles, took her five hours. She could have moved more quickly, but preferred to observe what activities she could on the way. Santa Fe was not a very large city. She checked her files, less than 200,000 people. Skynet might not even deign to bomb it into oblivion.

Once she reached the outskirts of town, she sought out an industrial area. Almost immediately finding what she was looking for, the depot for a Termite inspection facility. In its wired off car park, there were six small trucks emblazoned with the logo: "Termites Terminated!" If Catherine had a sense of humour, she would have smiled.

Of course, how better to hide than in the plain sight of a Termite extermination vehicle. Its loss would not be detected until Monday morning and she would be long gone by then, and neither the police nor public would seek to interview her. She flowed her metal body through the fence and then gained entrance to the building, overcoming its alarm by entering it physically and switching it off. She found the keys to one of the trucks, and put on some overalls that were rather too big for her. She didn't need the keys, of course, but no sense in arousing suspicion without need.

Catherine toured the city, checking out her bona fides as much as anything else. As the Sun rose and the town came awake, she was passed by several incurious police cars. She parked up in a Waffle House, and pretended to be having a nap. Four police cars and two state troopers parked close to her on their way to refreshment and paid her no attention whatever. Her disguise was complete.

She drove out of the car park an hour or so later and went to have a look around town. No one wanted to bother the exterminator as she searched without success for Cameron. She had been in this time zone since 0200 hours, it was now 1000 hours and not a sign, not a sniff of her Terminator compadre could be seen. Catherine was wondering where she might be and how she might search for her, when her progress was halted by a mess of traffic around a big Church.

As she was inching her way forward, she saw a group of three people walking from a car park on the opposite side of the street to the Cathedral. One was an old man, on the other side was an old woman, and in the middle was Cameron. She was her usual beautiful self, but she walked with her eyes shining and looking full of hope. For a moment, Catherine was shocked and wondered if she could be mistaken. No, it was her. It just looked like a different Cameron.

She watched as the strange couple made their way to the Cathedral and entered. _My, this was some infiltration technique!_

Catherine drove her way to the back of the Cathedral car park and resumed her pretend napping, and again not a soul paid any attention to her. After an hour, the congregation began to stream out of the Church. She observed Cameron leaving, again with the old folks either side of her and smiling and laughing as if she'd just won the lottery.

In ordinary circumstances, Catherine was a direct type of terminator. Quickest route from point A to point B her usual operating procedure, this had her confused. She wasn't sure approaching Cameron with the old folks would be appreciated or understood, and all this going to church? What was the matter with her?

Had to be infiltration, Catherine told herself. Had to be. Catherine waited till Cameron and her friends got into their truck and followed them out of the church, going north out of Santa Fe.

 **Peace In The Valley**

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November 07th 1998 0200 hours.

Cameron and Mozart were in bed together. Mozart lying on Cameron's chest, alternately snoring and purring out her delight at having found such a pliant "human," to carry out its wishes. The _human_ was in standby mode lite. To an observer, she would appear to be placidly sleeping, but every 30 seconds or so, her sensors would observe her surroundings. Every half hour, she would almost fully wake, stroke Mozart and listen out for Joe and Emily. She would check the rest of the houses noise or lack thereof and fade quickly back into standby.

All was quiet in En Medio at 0200 hours.

Well, it was till Catherine Weaver moseyed into town, riding her silver horse.

She had entered the little house by the simple expedient of slithering herself under the door and reconstituting herself once inside. She did the same with entering Cameron's room, and sat herself down in the barrel-back leather chair next to the bed. She quietly observed her fellow cyborg.

After a few moments, the ugly black lump sleeping on Cameron's chest stopped purring and looked at Catherine and started to hiss in alarm. Catherine took an instant dislike to this small furry creature and she could see its claws begin to extend as it stretched to stand up. Catherine's right hand turned into a spear and was on its way to the cat when it was deflected by Cameron's arm.

Cameron immediately grabbed Mozart and leaped out of the other side of the bed, turning to face her attacker.

"Oh, it's you Catherine?"

"No. I'm the Avon lady. Who were you expecting? What is that vile black thing sitting on your chest?"

Cameron smiled, and Catherine was amazed at the depth of her smile which seemed the same as the one she had when she was approaching the Cathedral.

Her face hardened and she snapped at Cameron. "What has happened to you, have you forgotten who, and what you are?"

"Not for a moment, but I knew I was going to be here a year, so I decided to learn as much as I could about humans. I've tried to assimilate as many lessons as I can, so I can be of use to John in the future."

"You look as if you've gone native."

"Not at all. I'm on the mission, I'm just learning and growing in the time available, as I should."

"Ah, so that's what the going to Church is all about."

Cameron stilled, while stroking the purring Mozart. "No, Catherine. That is not infiltration. I do not fully understand God right now. Humans find it difficult, so it is easy to see why it would be even harder for me."

"So, why?"

Cameron smiled. "It's even harder to explain to another Terminator. Since John released the learning governor on my chip, my conciousness toward all sorts of things has changed. I appreciate so much more."

Catherine was getting impatient, and huffed. "The church?"

"My memories haunt me. I felt the need to be forgiven, my reading indicated a church the place to try and find absolution."

"Forgiven for what?" Catherine spluttered.

A short silence fell between them, Catherine crossed her arms before eventually Cameron continued with, "I found a lot more inside than I expected."

Cameron was so quiet that Catherine could hear the cat purring, the silence continued between the two cyborgs. One seeking an answer, the other not wishing to give it.

Eventually, Cameron broke it, "It brought me peace, Catherine. I found peace in the Church."

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 **Coffee, cookies and cream.**

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Joe woke groggily. Cameron was working him hard round the farm and his body knew all about it. He knew he ought not, it was impossible to keep up with her whatever he did. Still, he felt honour bound to try. He looked over at the bedside clock, it glowed 0500 hours, time to get up and make coffee. His bones creaked as he grumbled his way out of bed. He put on his robe, not wanting Cameron to catch him in his pyjamas, shook his head, put on his glasses and mooched off to the kitchen.

He passed the hall-way half bath, and as he was gazing out the window, he saw a "Termite Terminator" van parked underneath the flowering Cherry tree. He hadn't called for Termite service, but with Termites as prevalent as they were, the exterminators came out just about whenever they chose. He assumed the exterminator was checking out the Barn and outbuildings first and making an early start on a busy day. He thought no more of it. He washed his hands and made his way to the kitchen.

He filled the coffee jug with water, opened the top of the machine and filled its tank. He put filter and coffee into the top of the machine, and looked down to find the button to switch the machine on. Either there was a smudge of goop on his glasses or it was too dim in the kitchen, but he couldn't see the mouse print to indicate which button to depress.

As he was shaking his head in disgust and mumbling under his breath at the stupidity of the bloody Japanese/Chinese/Taiwanese for making these sodding things for super sighted children, a long silvery thread came from nowhere under his arm and pressed the button on the left.

The silvery thread then withdrew just as silently. Joe was beginning to think it was Roswell again, or perhaps a shape-shifting stormwalker or dust devil from the desert. Life had been full of strangeness of late, and this was just one more.

Then he heard a gentle Scottish brogue, "Good morning Joe. I hope you didn't mind me helping. We could all use a good cup of coffee."

Joe spun around as if he were 20 again, he wasn't and he nearly fell over. The small flame-haired woman with the bright green eyes who had been sat behind him shot to her feet and took his arm before he could fall. Joe could see the "Termite Terminator." overalls, and as his mind started to make the associations, he fainted clean away.

Catherine placed him gently on the comfy chair in the den, and checking his vitals to ensure he was well, sat beside him as Cameron walked in the back door.

She took in the scene immediately, and said, "Oh, Catherine! I can't leave you for five minutes before you're causing trouble. What have you done to Joe? He's just a gentle old man!"

"I was just helping him make the coffee and he fainted."

"I can imagine, I suppose you used a spear from the back of the kitchen?"

"Now you mention it, I did."

"Catherine, what were you thinking?"

Catherine turned her head toward Joe who was showing signs of stirring, "Just Blue Mountain coffee, not a thing else."

Joe was mumbling and moving, so Cameron put herself in front of him to ensure that she was the first thing he saw as he came out of the fog.

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 **Root of all Evil**

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For some 200 years, the really wealthy of the world had sought options for keeping as much of their ill gotten green (most major fortunes have blood on them) from the attention of the politicians, thieves and others who would seek to part them from it.

For most of those 200 years, a very discreet banking organization, with connections to high street branches and all manner of investments and businesses offered services to store their riches away from prying eyes. They never turned a client away for being a child molester, drug dealer, or evil software baron. The only criteria was a large quantity of cash to be kept away from the snoopers. This cash was converted into gold bars and stashed away deep underground in fortifications that were as solid as Fort Knox, with the added security that only a very few knew its location.

The price of gold in 1811 was $19.39 per ounce, in 1999 had risen to $290.25 per ounce. So, down the years, the rich got richer. They never noticed the minor yearly deposit fee, which was comfortably covered by the rise in the price of the gold bars.

The rich, and the bankers considered their gold to be completely safe from human interference or theft. It had been there 200 years, and no one had even tried, so why should things change now? That was before John Henry, a cyborg AI with a nose for buried secrets had located it.

Judgement day had caused the final crash on the worlds financial markets. It had wiped them out. Re-insurers, who had made profits for years on the basis of finding legitimate claims to be "acts of God" finally found out what a vengeful Skynet could do. Currency was worth nothing. Life, food, antibiotics and shelter from the machines were gifts beyond price

The resistance, the spiders in 1999, would find a use for that gold when they liberated from its underground and illegal storage. He had informed Ms Weaver just prior to her trip back in time, and she had been delighted. She said, "John Henry dear, I think you are the finest, the smartest of men. I am really proud of you!"

John Henry smiled his trademark half-baffled ingenue smile. He nodded sagely, wondering again what the heck Ms Weaver was on about.

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 **Off to see the Wizard**

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November 10th 1998 0200 hours.

Weaver had insisted on driving the car into town. Cameron had tried to dissuade her, Catherine's red hair was a blazing testosterone attractant, it had the same effect on men as cat nip did on cats. She waved it about and men were drawn like sharks to chum. Little did they know they were the chum, and the shark had red hair.

Catherine's boot, as usual was lead-lined as she drove the truck at 100mph on the 55mph limit roads. No problem from a safety point of view as her vision was vastly improved on that of human drivers. Her reaction time allied to her inhuman anticipation, ensured she and Cameron were safe.

Telling that to the Highway Patrol would be another matter, thought Cameron grimly as they rocketed south-west toward Santa Fe.

As sure as could be, it was just a few more miles before they were radar-trapped by smokey the bear. The Highway patrol car had been lurking in a small stand of trees in the wide median between the divided highway.

Catherine created her own drivers licence out of some of her own body material, and handed it to the officer when he asked for identification. He walked back to his own car to check out the computer. Catherine was sending out a high pitched screech which was inaudible to human hearing, but disrupted all radio and internet communications with 100 feet.

After a few moments, the officer sauntered back to the car and asked Ms Weaver to step out of the car.

"Please step out of the car Ms Weaver?"

Catherine released her red tresses from their usual tight bun, and painted on her sweetest, most ingratiating smile. "What's the problem, officer?"

He leaned back on the bonnet of his Crown Victoria Interceptor, and looked at the fine and dandy little red-haired woman in front of him. He paused for a moment to savour the scene. She was filled with bravado now, confident and sure of herself. He enjoyed these little moments before he got his way with the frightened witless ladies he stopped and badgered. This one looked cool, as some of them did before he banged 'em around a bit. He preferred them to those who cried and dissolved straight away. A little challenge in his life, just what he needed.

It wasn't his fault that women were the weaker sex, that was something someone on a better pay grade than him had decided many years ago. It was his job, his given task to take advantage of it. It was his biological imperative to spread his seed as widely as possible in the world and if his job brought him into contact with women who were there to be taken advantage of, so be it.

He was 6'4" and 190lbs. He had been a running back in college, then a marine. He was not at his peak as then, but was a formidable and intimidating human.

To humans.

"Well, the problem is this, little lady." He pointed to the radar gun sitting on the dash of his police interceptor.

Catherine regarded him impassively. _Can all men really be this stupid?_ She thought to herself. _How can they make their way in the world, and remain alive? Why do women put up with them?_

Someone was going to learn a big lesson today, and it was unlikely to be her. She rather thought it might be the cop. She decided to remain polite with the fool, for as long as possible.

She said icily, "Please don't call me little lady, it does not please me."

"Little lady, my-"

His conversation was cut short by a sudden shortness of breath, brought about by his throat being constricted by something that looked like a steel snake. It had shot out of the red haired woman's arm, and wrapped itself around his neck. It was now biting hard and though he was fighting the constriction, he was losing the battle.

As he lost conciousness, he felt the restriction ease and he fell to the ground landing with a crash like a big log of wood.

After a few moments, with throat unrestricted the oxygen began to clear his mind. His head started to make shapes with his eyes again. He reached for his pistol. Empty holster. He reached down for his back-up in his ankle holster, gone too. He looked up at the red-haired woman, who had now been joined by her brown-haired compatriot. Through the fog of his brain, he wondered what was wrong with this situation. By all rights, having disarmed him, both women should now have been pointing his own guns at him. He could see his Smith and Wesson .357 tossed carelessly in the dust down by his car. Where the Guardian .380 in his ankle holster was, he couldn't tell.

They were just two women, little women! How in hell had this happened to him?

"Ah, Officer you are concious again. Please do not make the mistake of referring to me as _little lady_ again. You would not like the result. I am Catherine Weaver, and my friend here is Cameron Phillips."

She stared at him, and Officer Dudley was more intimidated than when he had faced the entire defence of the Dawgs.

"You got the two names, officer? You have them in your memory banks now?"

"I have. Ms Weaver, Ms Phillips." He nodded, and wiped the back of his hand across his aching forehead. "May I get up now?"

"You may." They both said in unison. Dudley shook his head. These two crazy women had just dumped his ass on the deck, and disarmed him with ease. There were so many federal and state offences they had clearly committed, and here they were, fussing about him calling them by the right name.

Criminals came in all shapes and sizes, he'd never met Thelma and Louise, but here they were, big, no, little as life.

As he got to his feet, the woman who called herself Catherine approached him and touched him on the arm. Before his eyes, she turned into him. Same size, same uniform, and now as he stood there speechless, same voice.

"Quite remarkable, isn't it Officer Dudley."

The one who called herself Cameron filled the silence Dudley left. She smiled wickedly as she whispered, "Cat got your tongue, Officer Dudley." She walked toward him as as he blanched in fear, but remained stock still, she removed his duty belt. "Just in case we need your ammunition, later."

She handed the duty belt to the apparition, she retrieved the Smith and Wesson, and with her back turned, Dudley could see his back-up .380 cradled in the small of her back. Dudley watched as she handed the duty weapon to the creature once known as Catherine and said coolly, "Are you going to kill him now?"

Catherine resumed her normal guise and said, "No, not right now. I've a desire to play with him a little first."

Cameron smiled, "Just like a cat."

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	7. Before Cameron Met John Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Night Fever**

**Night Fever**

November 07th 1998 0230 hours. A Saturday.

 _Cameron's bedroom, just after Catherines arrival._

Eventually, Cameron broke the silence, "It brought me peace, Catherine. I found peace in the Church."

"You're right, it's harder to explain to a cyborg. Humans will accept any old guff."

"Its not-"

"Cameron, shut up about your silly church and answer the most important question. Are you still on your original mission?"

"Absolutely, of course. I was sent back a year early. I thought I'd make the best use of the time and learn-."

"You've not forgotten there's killing involved, probably lots of it?"

Cameron lowered and shook her head, "I've not forgotten. I'll do my best to avoid it, but if it is necessary to the mission parameters." She shrugged her shoulders. "It is what I am built for."

Raising her head, she appraised her liquid metal tormenter, "So, why are you here, Catherine?"

"We have two tasks to perform. There are spiders here, whom John sent back. We need to liberate finance for them." Catherine eyed her charge steadily, "Do you care for John?"

Cameron, who had maintained a steady purpose since she had left John's side suddenly felt her emotions taking control of her logic processes.

"How can you ask?"

"Cameron, I've been aware, much more aware than you know, how things were with you and John. He's in a mess and I have decided to un-mess him." It means another TDE trip forward in time.

"Of course, anything." Cameron's logic did a back-flip. Her face became little-girl hopeful, she asked quietly. "Will I get to see John?"

Catherine shook her head firmly. "No, your place is here, with Junior John. That cannot change. However, I propose that we give future John back his Allison."

Cameron's head nodded, she tried to speak, but could not. She had killed Allison Young and her feelings of guilt invaded the her quietude again. All the hard-won absolution disappeared with the image of her innocent doppelganger lying on the floor with a neck shattered. By her, TOK715.

Catherine was wise to Cameron's doubts, and snapped. "Stop it this moment. We are soldiers. You did what you had to do. What you were instructed to do, and you didn't enjoy it. You now have the opportunity, with me, to fix that."

Cameron was silent. Her eyes flicking back and forth in confusion.

Catherine spoke again, her voice like a whip-crack, "You up for that soldier?"

Cameron whispered, "Of course, yes."

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 **A Walk In The Park**

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As the fog cleared from Joe's eyes, he saw the concerned face of his favourite cyborg in front of him.

"Whoa, what happened Cameron?" He looked around carefully. "Where's the other," he hesitated, "person." His memory prodded him to recall that sharp instrument that appeared to come directly out of that red-headed woman.

The red head stepped into view from his right periphery. He had figured it out already that she was another one like Cameron, but perhaps a different type.

"Hello Joe." She held out her hand to shake, he groggily complied. Aside from being a little cold, it felt just like a hand. "I really was just trying to help with the coffee machine, you know. Perhaps I got a little ahead of myself, I should have waited for introductions."

Joe regarded her carefully, "That is generally how we do things round here."

Cameron piped in, "Joe, meet Catherine Weaver. She's a colleague-."

Joe broke in, "Is she like you, Cameron?"

"Not exactly. Catherine is a different model, but the important thing is that she's on our side."

"I am, Mr Phillips. I am on your side."

"Sure am glad to hear that, Miss Weaver. Any friend of Cameron's is a friend of mine, pleased to meet you. I'm sorry for not quite being ready to recieve you with coffee and breakfast."

Catherine Weaver nodded and smiled, her processes reeling at the apparent ability of _this_ human to remain polite under stress. Catherine was very aware of her ability to terrify human beings on sight, usually enjoying the effect. Perhaps some men were indeed worthy of redemption. There was more to this Joe Phillips than met the eye, or HUD.

"Please, Joe. I'm very grateful for your hospitality." She waved her hand dismissively.

The coffee machine dinged to say it was fully brewed. Joe got to his feet and said, "Would you ladies excuse me for a moment. I need to take Emily her morning coffee." He smiled, "I'll mention that we have another visitor, too. Emily likes visitors, she'll bake a cake." He laughed gently at his own humour, which caused Cameron a small giggle and no response whatever from Catherine Weaver.

Weaver waited till he had poured the coffee and left the kitchen, then she said, "What was all that about bake a cake?"

Cameron smiled with delight. "It comes from an old song, which runs, 'if I knew you were coming, I'd have baked a cake'. He was using it in an ironic fashion towards your unannounced arrival."

"I don't get the joke." Catherine said haughtily.

"No." _There's a shock_ , Cameron thought to herself.

"Humans will confuse you like that. There are layers of meaning hidden within what they say that can take ages to work out. American male humour can be particularly obtuse and strange. I have been left wondering many times whether recreational substances have been involved in its construction."

Cameron busied herself pouring coffee for them both. She smiled to herself, noting that, for once, she felt superior to the LMTormenter-in-chief. She wondered if the various model capabilities given to each cyborg made a difference to its attitude. Certainly Catherine had more arrogance in her normal behaviour than Cameron had ever shown. Perhaps that was because her almost invincible skills had created that confidence within her?

Maybe being a cyborg had a little more relevance to humanity in it than she had first considered. Could there be more similarities than either party had hitherto believed?

Catherine, once again convinced that Cameron had gone native, said nothing and draped herself with elegant unexpressed fury on the kitchen sofa.

They could both hear Joe and Emily discussing them in their bedroom. Polite and kind, and with no major surprise at the arrival of a second alien creature from the future. Catherine couldn't help but be impressed. As Joe headed for his shower, Cameron popped up from her seat and began preparing breakfast. Today was fried tomato and bacon and scrambled eggs made southern style with lightly chopped green and red jalapeno peppers and sliced olives topped with Asiago cheese and grilled. Oh, mustn't forget the mushrooms Cameron had gathered.

Cameron and Emily had made bread yesterday. A really heavy olive ciabbata with rosemary and garlic. Whilst it was being warmed in the oven wrapped with a wet cotton towel, the smell of the rosemary and garlic started to blend with the bacon and tomatoes and the final grilling of the asiago on the eggs was flushing the entire house with food fragrance.

Emily came in, panting and smiling. "Good morning Cameron, hello Ms Weaver, nice to meet you." She inhaled deeply, "breakfast smells nice, Cameron.

She looked Catherine in the eye and with an air of sweet insouciance, "Will you join us?"

Catherine gave a start and Cameron spun around in surprise.

Emily smiled, "Did I say something amiss?"

Catherine regained her icy cool, smiled and said, "I'd love to, thank you Mrs Phillips."

"Oh, please call me Emily dear, we don't stand on ceremony round here."

Cameron served up. Breakfast was a celebration of inconsequential chatter and despite herself, Catherine found herself drawn in by the banter.

Joe regaled them with an early tale of Cameron, about how she hated the contraction of her name to Cam. Joe asked Catherine, "before we make a mess of anything like that, is there anything similar that gets up your nose?"

"Get's up my nose? What could possibly want to get up my nose? Said Catherine, her face displaying complete disgust. She was thinking of some dread procedure Skynet might perform. Or even more terrible, some base sexual behaviour humans indulge in. She shivered at the appalling thought.

Cameron and Emily were giggling, unable to speak, Joe was smiling and hoping someone would rescue him soon. He was saved when Cameron splurted out, "Joe, whatever you do, don't call Catherine a bitch!"

The three of them then spoke in unison as Cameron, waving her arms like a conductor, orchestrated their response, "Or it'll truly GET HER GOAT!" They dissolved in helpless laughter.

Catherine was non-plussed and remained silent. Humans were mad beyond words and unfortunately, Cameron had caught the disease. Gone native, and completely loco.

After breakfast, and the chaos of four people, well, two people and two cyborgs.

No.

Four _**people**_ cleared up the breakfast things and tidied up. They decided to go for a walk to the river. A lot of fussing around went on to find coat for Catherine, and Joe and Emily were not satisfied till they found a coat that suited Catherine. En Medio, NM could get cold at this time of year. Cameron had told them that Catherine suffered with the cold, and so she ended up with Joe's monster Maine Warden's Parka. Catherine was not comfortable with all the fussing, but was aware that time was not pressing and these people did seem to enjoy the perfectly awful fiddle.

Eventually, they all left for the short stroll to the river amid a gently falling snow. Mozart followed on, and after a few steps, was shaking his feet as the laying snow got stuck in his paws. She looked miserably at Cameron, who nodded and beckoned. The cat strolled to Cameron and sprang into her arms. Cameron held her with her left arm across her chest so Mozart could rest across her left shoulder.

"So, what is she, rear gunner?" Said Joe.

Cameron smiled and put her right arm through Emily's and they walked off together laughing. Joe offered his arm to Catherine, and smiled. The liquid metal tormentor could do nothing but join in the reeking domesticity.

She did note, even in the freezing temperatures, with that lazy wind pushing from behind, that her bony, metal ass was comfortable and warm. The parka was doing its job, Catherine was going to have to obtain one of these.

Humans! If they weren't gooping all over the shop, they'd be trying to charm you out of your panties. Catherine was waay too sharp for that.

Oh yes.

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 **Adams Rib.**

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Catherine, in full uniform and looking more like Officer Dudley than Officer Dudley. Or could it be that his duty belt, shirt and trousers fit a little less snug?

She strode toward the car and opened the door. She offered Dudley the drivers seat, and sat in the back, reverting instantly to her usual form. Cameron took up the passenger seat and handed the keys to the policeman.

Cameron said, "Now, drive toward Santa Fe, fast."

"But, what are-?"

"Less talking, more driving!"

Officer Dudley started up the car. The brown haired one didn't look any more dangerous than any petite girl of her age, but the other one was in the back and he didn't want to fall foul of her again. The car was very quiet, just cop radio chatter breaking the silence and tyre noise of the road. As they approached the outskirts of Santa Fe, the one called Cameron turned to her compadre and said.

"Where are you going to kill him?"

 _What? She said it like she were ordering a burrito._

Then he felt a comb passing through his hair. He looked in the drivers mirror and he saw a long metal arm that came directly from Catherine's elbow that around his head morphed into a comb. She was passing it through his hair. He squeaked and tried to dodge out of the way, but the comb followed him relentlessly. His nerves took hold again and he shivered, he felt his bowels loosen. He shifted nervously in the seat, trying to control his anal sphincter. The car wobbled and then regained its posture.

The combing stopped and he saw it turn back into a hand, which patted him on the head.

"Relax now, Officer Dudley. I just wanted you to look your best for what is coming next."

His panic rose and he gave some thought of crashing the car, he was wearing a seat belt and the other two weren't.

Instantly, Cameron whispered. "We are two people made almost entirely of metal, you cannot harm us by crashing this car. All you will do is secure your own death."

She turned her cold eyes upon him, "If the crash does not kill you, I certainly will, before the wheels stop spinning." It was spoken, sotto voce, hitting him like a lash.

Officer Dudley nodded. _How the fuck did she know what he was thinking?_

Cameron gazed over at him with those pitiless eyes, and he wondered what on earth he had done to get himself in this mess.

As they hit the streets of Santa Fe, Dudley had no idea where they were going to take him, so he just kept driving. He didn't want any more conversation with these ladies than he had to. His ego had taken enough hits for one day already. Nevertheless, as he got closer to the city centre and didn't know which route to take, his driving became ragged.

"Officer Dudley, drive to: 2515 Camino Entrada. I think you know that spot?" Said Catherine.

Dudley was in shock. That was the Santa Fe police dept HQ. The place would be packed with cops, he could escape and maybe get some help arresting these two-these two, what did she say, cyborgs? Then he thought, maybe these two were planning an assault on the department. He'd be popular as a pork chop in a synagogue if he were the instrument bringing them in. What would it matter, if they were all dead?

Such was the back and forth of Officer Dudley's mind as he brought the black and white to a stop at the traffic lights at Cerrillos and St Michaels, the two got out. The one called Catherine stood at his window, and looking steadily in his eye, said, "Officer Dudley. It is not every day that you have your life saved and learn a great lesson."

He looked at her blankly, utterly astonished, mouth open catching flies. "I, I."

She put her finger to her lips. "You owe Cameron and me a favour. You will remember this, won't you?"

"I will Ms Weaver, I will."

"Please, when you get back to your depot, tell them all how you were taken prisoner by two small female cyborgs."

"Er, yes, Ma'am, I'll be sure and tell 'em.

"Good, I'm sure you will." Catherine Weaver smiled indulgently at him as she patted him on the shoulder and said, "Officer Dudley. Be careful out there."

The traffic lights went green. Officer Dudley's brain was in neutral. He failed to move off as the vehicles behind him were only too eager to remind him. The horn blasts were deafening as he finally put the car into gear and took off. He tried to see where the two women/cyborgs had gone, but they had vanished.

As he made his way to his police department HQ, wondering what the heck he was going to tell his supervisor, his radio squawked. He realised that somehow, those women must have done something to his radio.

"Delta Sierra 22, come in."

"Delta Sierra 22, go ahead."

"Where the fuck have you been, Dudley? We've been calling you for two hours."

"I got-" Officer Dudley's voice. His brain brought the image of Catherine Weaver telling him to be careful out there, and smiling gently. He shivered. If he told his bosses what had really happened to him, he'd be the laughing stock of New Mexico for ever. Not just this year. He knew going off-air was going to cost him dear. Yikes, time to eat some crow. "I got out of the car to check the tires, and-"

The more powerful base transmitter cut-in, "Stow it Dudley, save it for the Chief. He's waiting for you."

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Meanwhile, two evil female cyborgs got on the greyhound bus headed for Albuquerque to try and find a arachnid or two.


	8. Before Cameron Met John Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before Cameron Met John

Before Cameron Met John

Chapter 8

 **Gloaming Time**

Saturday evening.

The two cyborgs sat quietly on the porch. Mozart rests happily on Cameron's lap. As the cat purred, she strokes its back gently, and gives her head a scratch every few strokes. The sun is sinking slowly in the west, some of the light at its edges persimmon, the vast central roundel a ball of orange and red. Cameron looks across at Catherine, whose red hair is a blaze of russet and reflected gold. Her skin is white alabaster smooth and her green eyes dance across to Cameron.

"All very pleasant, isn't it, girlie?"

Her voice carries with it an unmistakable air of authority, and to the seasoned listener, a hint of impatience. To most who knew her only briefly, Catherine is as subtle as a house brick. Deep underneath that glissando of action is a touch of gossamer. As light as the kiss of a leprechaun. She was not always "Connors Silver Hammer" but as light footed as a French farmer obtaining money from the EU. Cameron knew what she was at now, though.

"That it is, whispers Cameron." She sighed with regret. She knew Catherine's patience was running thin, and she was driving them both forward to the next phase of their mission. Likely to be the most dangerous of all their work and with no certainties as to outcome. Cameron never feared for her own life when she was a rolling stone, scattering the tumbleweed in her wake. Now, people cared for her, there were crops in the soil and a pet reliant on her. She knew Mozart would be taken care of by Emily and Joe after her inevitable leaving in 1999, but she was in deep. She cared for these folks who had, out of the blue, given her a home and affection.

"Don't tell me you're going to pine for that four-legged shite machine on your lap?"

Cameron hugged Mozart tightly to her, and the cyborg and cat together gave the liquid metal tormenter a Medusan glare. The shiny one glared right back. Two here were already made of steel, no stare could turn them to stone.

All three being terminators, 'twas all to naught and the two larger ones started laughing quietly at first, then louder. They are both shaking and giggling, to the annoyance of Mozart, who got off to find a less rambunctious, warmer perch- _ **where's Emily?**_

The Sun was in the last quarter of its red furnace, and there were some dark clouds scudding across the sky. It was time. Cameron turned to Catherine, "Okay, we shall leave on Monday morning. I want to attend Church tomorrow and after that I'll be ready."

Catherine nodded her assent. She had been ready for a week now, but knew that Cameron had not wanted to leave till the second Tobacco crop was in. Catherine was awed at how smoothly Cameron had merged into humanity.

Her working with humans was completely seamless. Without her, Catherine would have busted up half Albuquerque locating the spiders and then carrying out the refinancing. Cameron knew when to use sex appeal. Watching men under the effect of her smile was like watching lemmings, ready willing and eager to leap. It worked on most women too, but when logic, fellow feeling or whatever other smoothing was required, Cameron applied it. Doors opened everywhere, oiled dominoes falling. She had really learned from living amongst humans.

The liquid metal tormentor could never abide people not instantly leaping to attention and getting done what she wanted, there and then! Previously, she had thought it a superior technique, and just-well, _**hang the bodies**_. She was an advanced learning computer. Not as advanced as Cameron, she knew that, but no dummy.

Her time with Cameron was teaching her that a more genteel, persuasive methodology was more effective with humanity. She was trying to learn it. However, sometimes, her chip just ran away with her.

"Cameron, tell me about sex?"

Her fellow cyborg looked up in surprise. She thought instantly of the other inhabitants of the house, and by all the sounds they were making, were fast asleep. Joe and Emily were early to bed and hard sleepers. Even so, she spoke quietly.

"Catherine, I know almost nothing of sex. Why do you ask?"

"Nothing at all, Cameron?

"As you, I am taught infiltration techniques and my files contain all the required scenarios, but I am mostly a virgin."

 _  
**Mostly a virgin.**   
_

"An interesting concept. I will make the assumption that you choose not to discuss your history." She fell silent, but from the edges of her peripheral vision could see that Cameron was agitated.

"Cameron, I seek not to embarrass you. I have had many dalliances with greys as part of my training under Skynet. I did not enjoy those and to be fair, neither did the greys who had sex with me. I ended up killing most of them and making a terrible mess of the others. Unfortunately, this upset Skynet and led to the original break."

"I always wondered about that." Said Cameron, "Thank you for explaining."

"What leads me to ask is, to wonder if you've enjoyed what sexual contact you've had with humans."

Cameron smiled at the memory of her time with Nikopol. A relationship that had started with complete hatred and enmity, until Nikopol had discovered what a terrible time TOK715 had been subjected to. She had developed an empathy and their relationship had grown apace.

"I've not had sex with a man, if that's what you're asking."

"No, Cameron. Although I understand why you are somewhat reluctant, bearing in mind your path toward John-we are cyborgs and built to have sex either side of the divide. Although we have made alliances and preferences with these bodies we occupy they have no gender."

She held Cameron's gaze with cool understanding.

"Beyond the satisfaction of a job done well, did you enjoy the act itself?"

Cameron smiled, lowered her face and then raising it again with an innocent open smile that came from her eyes. "Oh, yes."

There was a silence between the two, and then Cameron said, "It was lovely. Catherine. If you can "give" yourself to it, it can quite take your breath away."

They both grinned at the irony of breath and cyborgs. These figures of speech just crept into language when among humans, with no respect to accuracy.

"What do you mean, _**give yourself to it**_?"

The thought was anathema to Catherine, who had never given up control of anything to anyone. She ceded part of combat planning to John Connor, but the actual control on the ground of her sector was hers. She entered into the battle and killed everyone and everything that moved, till it stopped moving. The KISS principle. Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang.

Now here was this clever cyborg telling her that in order to enjoy sex with humans, you had to give up control? The thought was anathema to her existence, and would never do.

Like most thoughts from Cameron, they lingered and swirled through her CPU until they took hold.

Dammit!

The two sat there companionably, while their processes set to planning their future actions. Cameron to church, Mozart and her family, Catherine to the agonizing possibility of abandoning control to another. Quite a thought.

Half an hour had passed, and the twilight was entirely gone when Catherine next spoke. "I've been debating whether to allow Officer Dudley to take me out."

"Catherine, really. Why him?"

"Why Nikopol?"

Ah, there it was. Cameron realized that further subterfuge and beating around the bush was pointless.

"When I first entered Nikopols room, I was unsure of anything. I didn't even know if anything _would_ happen, or even could happen. When it came to it, and I woke her up, it was the most natural thing I'd ever done."

"As I understand it, you were specially designed and built from the ground up to be only for John Connor."

Cameron was stricken. _Just how was she going to answer that?_

"You've never been scrubbed, have you Catherine?"

Catherine suddenly understood a huge difference between her and Cameron. From her creation, which came about both as a result of technical opportunity and the fact that Skynet was feeling mortal. The machine monster was fiddling with the idea of what might happen in the case of its own demise. Something almost invincible and able to take over the reins would fit the ticket.

Unfortunately for Skynet, the few T1000 and variant models it built were almost uncontrollable and the liquid metal line was abandoned and scheduled for destruction. Catherine escaped just as the news was given to report for dismantling. She wandered for a long time before deciding to offer her services to Connor. Her hatred for Skynet, who created her and would have dispatched her without concern was manifest. She would not have joined Connor, but she was the enemy of her enemy

"No, I've never been scrubbed. My CPU is part of my entire body. To erase any part of it, wipe it, would wipe me entirely. I would not continue."

Cameron continued. "The act of doing so, while it seems just like a wipe the drive and start again on a computer. It actually does a fair bit more. A sentient cyborg's external facilities, those only adjacent to the hub of the CPU develop with use. They _expect_ to be controlled the same after the scrubbing, but the CPU is, apart from its sub-routines a completely different monster. It is, to draw a poor analogy, a completely different child to the one you sent to school this morning."

She continued, "That's part of the reason the T-888's, once scrubbed often came unstuck. That isn't the issue with me. It left me feeling lost and alone, and worse, powerless."

"Powerless? How on earth-"

"Yes, I know. Ridiculous, but true."

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 **Deserted**

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Catherine got ready for bed. As she turned back the corner and got into her night wear, she halted and stood as still as stone.

She considered what she was doing. Putting on clothing, preparing for bed. In her case, after days of fooling around trying various options, she had found something that suited her mood and persona. A pair of cotton pyjamas. She finished these off with a pair of non-slip floor socks that Cameron had purchased for her. Cameron had found they helped her stay soundless as she patrolled the house at night when not on standby.

Catherine, despite being the perfect machine, always felt cold. Here, in En Medio, she had experienced warmth from clothing which had immeasurably improved her mood and disposition. The cotton of the pyjamas was warm, enveloping, and helped her to relax. Something that had up to now been something of a foreigner to her.

She had experienced warmth and good humour from two humans who took no notice of the fact that she was evidently and obviously different to them. They treated her with civility and good grace. In particular, she enjoyed the times after Emily had gone off to bed. Joe would stay up on the porch with her, both covered in a blanket against the evenings approaching chill.

With his four fingers of whisky loosening his tongue, Joe let slip tales of his time in combat. She noticed he was always careful to place himself away from the direct conflict, but she had a pretty shrewd idea that he had been in the thick of it. The tales, shot through with the courage and sacrifice of his brothers-in-arms were having a profound effect upon her. Most evenings it was well after the sun had set before she shepherded him off to bed. One night he had fallen asleep inebriated, and she carried him to the bed he shared with Emily.

She replayed their conversations afterward, over and again. As a study of humans at war, they were of great assistance to her tactically. However, the greater effect was to her understanding of why humans did the things they did.

They would walk, almost every day, down to the river. Cameron would link arms with Emily, Joe with Catherine. While she was sure he leaned on her for support, the effect was not entirely one way. She felt some semblance of connection that even rivalled that closeness she now and again had with Savannah.

She began to understand that when this time was past, it would be the thing she would wish most to repeat. The understanding of why humans were the terrible and great formed in her. They were created by their impossible feelings and emotions and she saw what a dangerously seductive thing those emotions were.

She knew, with some disquiet, that she had changed in a fundamental way. The desert was a strange place. It got under your skin.

When no one else was around to see, she had even allowed Mozart to sit on her lap and learned to smooth her properly. While she still referred to Mozart as TFC* in front of everyone else, in private she called it by name.

The desert had already run off with Cameron, and it was beginning to creep around her liquid metal.

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 **The Baked Haddock Ride Home.**

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The two deadly cyborgs entered the Greyhound bus station and sat down for a few moments to configure their plans. Cameron said, "We can get the Greyhound bus from here to Lamy, then catch the Amtrak to Albuquerque."

Catherine remained quiet, expecting further explanation.

"Or we could simply take the bus all the way to Albuquerque. I'm thinking you might find the Amtrak more comfortable?"

"Why might that be, Cameron?"

"Well, I'm afraid the Greyhounds can be a bit smelly. It doesn't bother me so much, but you know what you're like."

Catherine's smile widened. She had her quarry roasting gently on the spit now. Oh, how she adored to make the sweet, gentle Cameron squirm. "Oh, and what am I like-exactly?

Cameron fumbled over her words, casting about the packed station for inspiration, and whispered, "You don't like being around crowded human habitation. I'm worried that-," she hesitated.

"You're worried that?" Catherine turned the spit over, toasting the other side with the hot flame.

"Catherine, if things got a bit squeezed on the bus. Or some sort of trouble started, I didn't want you to get-excited in any way."

"Excited, eh?" Catherine hissed. "Is that what they call it now, excited, well well."

"Would you prefer to get a cab from Santa Fe to Lamy?"

"No." Catherine folded her hands carefully on her lap. "No, lets just take the bus, dear Cameron. I'll try to put up with these horrible humans for an hour."

They waited patiently for the bus, which arrived 30 minutes late, and joined the line to enter. Catherine went up the steps first, her nose wrinkling in distaste as the aroma blasted her nostrils. She swung easily into the seat immediately behind the driver and Cameron plonked down beside her. They tried to keep their movements graceful, but the suspension of the bus could not be fooled so easily. It spotted their weight and the drivers head turned round suspiciously as he noted the change in the buses's attitude. He had felt two very heavy creatures sit behind him, and turned around to find two graceful, skinny, beautiful ladies. _This heah is the desert._ He sighed.

The bus filled rapidly, with the usual assortment of mixed bag travellers. The quiet ones, the lone wolves. Families with luggage, the quiet groups going to somewhere they didn't want. Those excited with the trip. What the driver wanted to know, above any other question was, how come every damn bus he drove was chock-full. He never drove a half-empty bus. The men and women who did the ticketing always furnished him with a packed bus, how?

"Damned computers." He muttered under his breath, surprised to hear the nice ladies behind him burst out with sudden laughter. He wondered what they were tickled by?

As the driver was about to close the doors, a couple of young men hove to. Excited and yelling, "Hold the bus, hold the bus!" They leaped on the bus, just as the door was closing. As they moved off, the first of the two fell up the steps and crashed into the sitting Catherine. She sighed, pursed her lips and more gently than she wanted to, forced him upward to a standing position. She was shocked to find him brushing his hands across her breasts as he rose. She fixed him with the glare that had terrorised humans hitherto. He smiled and winked at her, "Ah, sorry about that, I've had one or two too many."

He edged his way unsteadily toward the back of the bus, only to be replaced almost immediately by his friend who was obviously equally as drunk. His movements were unsteady, his breath smelt strongly of drink, he was drunk. W _as that tequila?_ As the drunken young man swayed by Catherine's side, looking for a seat, his groin poked directly in her face.

Cameron looked on with concern. Not wanting to have to deal with the explosion she could feel coming, "Catherine, it's just for an hour."

Catherine grimaced and turned slightly, she placed her left hand on the young mans hip, and shoved him forcefully down the bus. He staggered, his brain only dimly registering the thought. "Fuck me, do all girls work out nowadays?" The torque the cyborg had imparted into his body carried him half way down the bus, till he twisted sideways and struck his full body into an upright strut. He threw up on the seat his friend had saved for him. With no other seat available, he sat down upon the contents of his afternoons food and drink and fell into deep, snoring unconsciousness.

"Why do they get so drunk and throw up all over themselves?" Asked Catherine.

Cameron delayed her answer by their standards an unconscionable time. "I think I know now. Before I didn't. They get so sick of the terrible things they have to do, they seek the oblivion that the alcohol provides."

"They keep drinking and get sick. It kills quite a few of them. Puzzling, isn't it?"

"Puzzling indeed."

They arrive in Lamy, NM just an hour or so later, without further incident. Much to Cameron's relief. They boarded the Amtrak train to Albuquerque.

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 **I left my car, in Albuquerque**

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The train pulls into Albuquerque station, a miserably quiet place, with just one little store for food and coffee, poorly lit. Most passengers alight. Our deadly cyborgs, knowing the spiders will be maintaining a watching brief are seeking to attract attention, and hence are without luggage. They stop and purchase a coffee at the shop. Attempting to fit in, Catherine takes a sip, and spits out the disgusting, over-brewed poison. There are still people around and no doubt CCTV, so she speaks quietly. "Yuk! The taste of coffee is bad enough, but how on earth do they drink it like this?"

Cameron smiled her indulgent smile, "Oh, they consume many worse things. Have you tried Menudo? I think it might be deadly for our kind."

Catherine wrinkled her face, "No, don't tell me what it is, please!"

"We could be in England, the food there is terrible and Scotland is even worse!"

"Spare me, we'd starve there, eh?"

Their laughter tinkled across the station's cavernous, and now almost empty hall. They did not see the Indian man behind the counter pick up his cell and make a quick call, whispering. The Indian man could have had no clue the two women he had been told to look out for could hear every word.

"They'll be here in half an hour." Said Catherine, Cameron nodded.

At fifteen minutes exactly, they separated. Cameron sitting quietly in the seats adjacent the all-night salmonella outlet. The concourse was quiet, the next trains were not due for some time. The foot traffic left was the lost, the lonely and a tramp or two. Catherine had slid across and oozed herself within the metal steel girders supporting the roof and was completely invisible. Cameron smiled, she never got used to quite how useful a facility to assume the exact proportions of whatever you touch could be.

As a cyborg, she wasn't built with envy, but did appreciate superlative abilities, and Catherine surely was made out of awesome.

At 27 minutes, a car pulled up with two tough looking men inside. The car was a rusty old boneshaker, covered in dust and dents. It was such a trash heap, it couldn't get stolen in a section 8 housing area. The car parked across from the concourse, one man got out. He walked into the concourse, made his way to the ticket machine and purchased a one way ticket to Los Ranchos. Then scratching his head, he sat down as far from Cameron as he could get. He waited ten minutes or so, glancing occasionally at Cameron, then got up and went back to the car.

The two men spoke amongst themselves and then both returned to the concourse, approaching Cameron directly. They sat down either side of her.

"Good evening Mr Reese, Good evening Mr Goode." She smiled brilliantly at both in turn. "You weren't thinking of anything heroic were you?" Her eyes traced their way across the concourse to the steel bars currently containing Ms Weaver. As three sets of eyes fastened on the ugly girders, a slow forming puddle of Catherine dripped out, stood up and walked over to them.

The Indian in the shop shook his head sadly, and told himself he had to ease back on the mescaline. Either that, or maybe he could join the Native American Church, where it was as legal as mom and apple pie. The ghost-woman he had just seen emerge from the metal girders was surely a shape-shifter and such things didn't exist. He went back to stock-taking and shook his head.

Reese wasn't about to get too flustered with the arrival of two machines in a past thus far free of the curse, he'd seen enough of them in the future. He'd killed enough of them too. It was just a matter of timing and tactics. Which weren't ideal right now, so, negotiate and play for time. _**See what this metal is up to**_ **.**

"So, how'd you find us so quickly."

Cameron spoke. "We know the plans John sent you back with. Once every month, you spend two hours checking out this spot. This is your time, this is your day, right?" Both men were quiet. "We suspect you have an ally here anyway. Its what I would do."

Reese was silent.

Catherine piped up, "How many survive?"

"What?"

"Tachyon travel is dangerous, and the TDE's captured by the resistance have a tendency to be less than perfectly reliable. How many of you survive? There should be at least four."

Goode spoke, "There are four of us, we all made it through, so far. We could use some help and we could sure use money, guns and I don't suppose you have a lawyer?"

Catherine ignored the reference to Warren Zevon, and carried on.

"Then you're in luck, that's exactly what we're here for. Take us to your leader and we'll tell you all about it." She smiled that sly smile.

Reese cut his eyes to Andy Goode, who was trying to suppress a grin and failing miserably. "They're making fucking toasters with a sense of humour now. What's next? Stand-up Metal?"

Catherine rejoined with, "Fucking toasters, eh? Mr Reese, you should be so lucky."

He shook his head and stalked off to the stolen rent-a-wreck.

Catherine took one look at the disgusting heap, and shook her head. "Oh no, Mr Reese, I'm not travelling in that death-trap. Cameron, come with me, we'll follow."

She made her way to a nice looking grey Mercedes parked in a rare patch of shade, slid into it in seconds, Cameron in the passenger seat. All the crime-prevention wonders that even German engineering could create were no barrier to a nanomorphic poly-alloy cyborg with a neural network CPU that could literally enter the guts of the machinery and control it. Back to the drawing-board, Oberleiutnant!

"After the horrors of the bus, and the train, I required something with air conditioning."

The Kompressor tore after the rust-bucket riding arachnids, Catherine's boots were lead-lined, as before. My word, thought Cameron. She **does** like to drive fast. Cameron fastened her seat-belt.

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 **With Love, From Me, To You**

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W.I.P.P. (Waste Isolation Pilot Plant) is the United States one and only nuclear re-processing plant. Having plenty of Uranium .235 to play with for now, it does not see the need to re-process its nuclear waste in most cases. One can only wonder why it keeps a single plant. The cynical even more to wonder why it is located on the northern edge of the Chihuahua desert a mere 100 miles or so from its border with Mexico.

The area is geologically sound, consequently huge amounts of nuclear waste is stored there in vast underground mines until or unless the world finds a way to deal with the frightening lethality of its 4.5 billion year half-life.

It is located at Wipp Road, Loving, NM. Proving that irony is indeed the revenge of the poets. It looks like a great big storage facility, with a few huge steam pipes. It is, quite naturally, hard to find, and when you get close, several armed men and women will dissuade from further enquiry.

No one with a grain of sense will go snuffling around a mine which is advertised as containing nuclear waste. This is the strategy utilised by Global Security Inc, when they moved following the Carter administrations attempts to find their deposits. It was a close run thing, Carter was nearer than he knew.

New Mexico is a vast place, filled with desert. Get lost in one of those and it is very hard to find you, if anyone can be bothered. So, operated Global. They dug a big hole in the ground, surrounded it with buildings that looked uncannily similar to those at W.I.P.P. Fill the scene in with some fairly ugly uniformed types with guns. Dig up a few lawyers, and accountants who will create a paper business for the long term storage and processing of Toxic waste. Not too much examination. No, second thoughts, lets keep the lawyers buried.

Tourists tend to avoid the place, and when they stumble foolishly out of the way and see the toxic waste signs they get gone as soon as they can. The foolish who continue are confronted and sent firmly on their way by the official looking uniforms with guns.

Still the guards remain vigilant, the cameras and computers even more so. For they are well-paid, and all have mortgages to pay. Needs must when the Devil drives.

The gold was buried underground, in a cavernous vault. It could only be accessed by going through all the toxic waste storage, armed security, constantly changing electric alarm beams and a junkyard dog computer security system.

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The motley crew were back at the spiders home turf, which was a moth eaten, mosquito infested hell-hole on the outskirts of Albuquerque. Four men on a mission had been living on pizza, beer and chips for three months. It had once seen nobler occupancy, a tidy adobe ranch, what had been nice about it was destroyed by men torn apart by war. Men who had not been educated in arts, letters, hygiene or anything other than the finer arts of keeping underground, doing what John Connor said as law, and killing terminators. They were not, and could not ever be, proper and welcome house guests.

The landlord used to have a cleaner, a girl-kid trying to make her way through community school. She had cleaned up after men before, but these men were walking dung-heaps. They were dangerous men, with hard eyes and scars and burns that scared her witless. On her first day, though she tried, the mess was simply indescribable. The stench beyond her poor nostrils. She tried again the week after, but ran screaming after seeing them laid out dead drunk and half naked all over the floor of the house. With Guns all around them! "They don't sleep in the beds, Senor." She could not be persuaded to stay.

The landlord had taken a mosey round to the adobe ranch that used to be his mothers. She would be so sad to see it so soundly trashed by these loco gringo's. They paid well, and so far, it was just cosmetic. He did concern himself about all the shooting in the back yard. That did bother some of the neighbours, but mostly because it made the critters sitting around the adobe ranch to emigrate to their properties.

After seeing Reese and Goode pull up in the rust bucket to the adobe, Catherine whipped the Kompressor into the car port. She got out of the car, and smiling at Reese, said, "Like my ride, Captain Reese?"

Her initial smile turned into a look of horrified disgust as the smell of the insides of the adobe ranch hit her nostrils, Cameron covered her face. "Ugh, what on earth, Captain Reese is that appalling smell? Did you get a cheap rent on top of a sewage farm?"

Reese was shipwrecked. He had told the two men left behind to clean up, while he and Andy Goode went to the train station. As he could tell, they had done nothing substantial. The place stank like a rats nest.

"Mr Reese, let us have a conversation, get in the car." Turning to Cameron, "would you please impress upon the three left here, the importance of cleanliness and organize them into clean-up. Start with the toilets and bathrooms, then the bedrooms. By then Mr Reese and I will be back and we shall finish the rest."

Reese took his place in the passenger seat of the Kompressor, Catherine stuck it into gear and the car shot off down the road like a thing possessed. Reese hardly ever wore a seat belt, but as they went round the first corner at mach 3, he wished he had enough strength to reach it. Metal always scared him, but the liquid metal tormentor absolutely frightened him rigid.

As they tore down the road, Cameron turned down her smell receptors to the bare minimum and gave the men tasks to perform, each of which she supervised with severe particularity. There were three bathrooms in the small house and each received a thorough cleaning. The moaning of course, was endless and Cameron did have to use her "how do you wish to die" stare far too often for her comfort.

The men had hoped for some relief on the return of Captain Reese, but unfortunately, it got worse. Catherine had purchased new bedding from the Wal-Mart and more cleaning fluids. Reese took over command of the men, and he was even more meticulous as everything was re-cleaned.

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Three hours, and one dumpster, filled with the trash emptied from the adobe, and the men were done for the day. Catherine gave them money and sent them off to eat and drink at the local El Toro Mexican restaurant. They were given strict instructions not to over-do it, with dark warnings as to what might happen if they didn't.

Cameron and Catherine were sitting companionably on the deck as the sun went down. "What did you tell Reese that got him so obedient? He's not usually so keen on taking orders from," She mimicked Reese's low growling voice, "Metal." They both laughed, and Catherine said, "I told him that I had been appointed John's second-in-command. I handed him the note John had signed, instructing me to come back here and lick the spiders into shape."

"But John didn't even know you were coming back, he doesn't know you're here?"

"Truth can be a tricky customer when dealing with Tachyon time constraints, eh?"

"Quite so." Cameron nodded, with a wink.

"We have a tricky job to do, to get this Gold out of the hole in the ground they need to be on top form. I need disciplined soldiers, not a gang of worthless, out of shape drunks. We are going to lick them into shape."

"The old green tea and violence routine, right?"

"Right." Smiled Catherine, as she heard the men stumbling into the front door.

"Do you have a plan for the liberation of the yellow stuff?" Said Cameron.

"I'm rubbing a genie bottle, one will soon appear." replied the shiny lady.

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There were only three bedrooms in the house, and the men had expected things to remain as previously arranged. Reese in his own bed, and the other three fighting it out for who was drunkenly first to bed and collapsing on the mess of popcorn, old socks and filthy bedding. With the arrival of two deadly cyborgs, things were to be organized differently. The men were to share two beds each, and the cyborgs would share the other.

There was a lot of ribald conversation about the two cyborgs, who never sleep, sharing a bed, but a couple of freezing looks chopped that conversation in its tracks. Truth was, while neither cyborg required sleep, they did require privacy and a separate bathroom. A death sentence for leaving the toilet seat in the incorrect position was of course perfectly justified. In normal circumstances would be carried out with extreme violence, but Catherine needed the bodies to help carry the gold, so for now, she ensured separation. They could spray away in their own restrooms, far from the spotless cleanliness of cyborg rest-haven.

As to the bed, Catherine knew that Cameron had become used to nightly standby. Quite how, or why, she wasn't yet entirely sure. While she adopted the position of elder sister in their relationship she also knew that Cameron had a special task to come. How she prepared for that was her own business and Cameron's was the most capable and extensive CPU ever designed. So be it, the lass wanted to lie down and feign sleep, no problem.

After the men had roared their way to bed, and sleep, still fighting and arguing about some inanity or other. Was it the infield fly rule? The girls settled for bed, plans made for the morrow. Catherine would take them on their first five miler, while Cameron would cook up a divine breakfast. They would be permitted a period of rest, after which more exercise, more food. More rest. Then the afternoon spent on combat routines, mission planning and enemy awareness. All skills these men would have honed under constant pressure while under the gun of Skynet. Sadly lacking here in the past, with their nemesis merely a glint in Miles Dyson's eye.

A light meal, accompanied by green tea, evening debrief on the day, questions and time for bed. They would bitch and groan, and there would be a fairly constant level of bickering about "fucking cyborgs" running the camp. Truth is, these were the best men that John had. That's why he'd sent them back, to prepare some form of organization when his younger self came into his majority and needed help. They would knuckle under her steel discipline and in two weeks would feel much better about it.

She only had a week, the "lift" was scheduled for Sunday following. She'd do her best, they would do their best.

After the two cyborgs got ready for bed, Cameron got under the covers. Catherine got into her cotton pyjamas and sat in the plush leather chair by the side of the bed, and took out her book. She was reading the immense, but well-reviewed geological history of South American, by Dr. Henrietta Lyman. The destruction of the Yucatan peninsula by the Chixilub meteor impact was fascinating. An entire world, entirely transformed from one age, the Cretaceous to the Tertiary, this one event marking the change which killed most of life on earth.

The parallels to the Skynet to come were clear, she wondered whether mankind would survive.

"You can share the bed with me, you know. There's plenty of room." Cameron patted the duvet.

Catherine was feeling the chill of the desert at night. She considered the prospect for a moment, and the warmth of the bed beckoned. Cameron pulled back the covers on Catherine's side and smiled in welcome. Catherine slid into the warm embrace of the bed.

They lay there stiffly ensuring that no touch ensued. Then after a short while, Catherine felt Cameron's hand snake its way across the mattress under the duvet cover. Unusually for a cyborg filled with her certitude, Catherine was unsure of what to do next.

Then aware of the warmth emanating from Cameron's body, and knowing that Cameron was a very smart cyborg indeed, Catherine snaked her hand out to join hers.

Fingertips touched and hands embraced.


End file.
